“You’ll figure it out,” he says simply.
I sigh. I don’t know how.
A playful smirk touches his lips as his gaze takes in the freshly made bed. That, at least, I managed to get done. “Was it as bad as you expected?”
I smile shyly. “No.” Thanks to yesterday’s room prep marathon, I’m now an expert at making beds whether I want to be or not. Paige did spot checks in each of our rooms, to ensure we weren’t being lazy. She said my corners were on point.
And, oddly enough, I found I didn’t mind hiking up my curve-hugging skirt and crawling over Henry’s mattress to fight with the fitted sheet that wouldn’t stay in place, because I knew he’d be the one sliding into it tonight.
Maybe naked.
Hopefully alone.
How often does Henry have sex? He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend. There obviously isn’t one here. A summer without sex never seemed impossible to me because I have no idea what I’m missing. He said he’s staying up here for the summer. Will he not have sex all summer? Or will he find someone? Belinda, I guess.
Or maybe he’ll have friends fly in and “visit.”
I’m thinking far too much about my boss having sex while I’m in his bedroom and he’s shirtless. And uninterested in me.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t allow this anymore.
I clear my throat once again, afraid of what my voice may sound like. “Thank you for the vest and sweater. They were a nice surprise.”
He slides his watch off and tosses it on the dresser. “It’s the least I could do, and you need them up here.” His hand begins unfastening his belt.
My eyes widen. I guess that’s my cue to leave. “I’ll go make that reservations call now.” I spin on my heels and march for the door.
“Abbi.”
I stop, but don’t turn around. “Yes?” Why must my voice sound so reedy?
“I need to jump into the shower so I’ll give you my suit. I spilled some Coke on it earlier. Please take it to the cleaners and then you can call it a day.”
I listen to the jangle of his belt and slide of material, and know that he has taken his pants off. I am 99 percent sure this is considered inappropriate behavior for a boss with his personal assistant, but I’m 100 percent sure that I don’t mind.
I keep my eyes away though, letting my gaze wander over to the en suite bathroom. It’s a fishbowl, with a hall down the center dividing the area in two: the toilet on the right, behind a glass-and-tile wall, and a massive walk-in glass stall to the left that houses the jacuzzi tub and a shower area that could easily fit five people. A pocket door separates the bathroom from the rest of the room.
I hazard a sideways glance to see him strolling toward me in a pair of black boxer briefs, suit in hand, powerful legs tensing with each step. I hold my shaky arm out and he drapes the suit over it gently. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, my voice suddenly husky, and then I duck out. I hang the suit over a chair and head for the desk phone to change dinner plans, acutely aware that Henry has left the door ajar as I punch the reservations desk button.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wolf. How may I help you?” Rich says in his deep, melodic voice. He could be a phone sex operator. I can’t wait to meet him in person.
“It’s Abbi again. We need to move Hen—” I catch myself, “Mr. Wolf’s dinner reservations from eight to six.”
He groans. “This is the longest day of my life already, and dinner hour hasn’t started.”
I cringe. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Please. You’ve been hiding out in your little palace over there, reading Cosmo.”
I snort in response. “I heard the commotion.” Wolf Cove has two ferries to transport guests; the small one that John brought me in on, and then a much larger, fancier one that reminds me of a small cruise ship, with an indoor section, set with cafe tables and chairs, and a waiter to serve drinks. It made several trips back and forth, arriving loaded with guests each time. A few planes also landed in the bay and propelled to the docks to deliver wealthy, elite guests. Helicopters made use of the pad as well.
Apparently, the hotel is nearly at capacity for its opening week, with off-season special rates enticing faithful Wolf chain patrons. The big grand opening ceremony with media is next week. Enough time, hopefully, to iron out any kinks.
“I don’t know how to make this work. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Of course I do. That’s why I’m doing this job.” I hear him clicking away at keys. “Not a lot of time to work with, though. Okay, here we go. Rooms 43 and 44, table of four at 6:00 p.m.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to swap their reservations for 8:00 p.m. and go up to their rooms to kiss their asses with a bottle of reserve wine and a charcuterie board to tide them over another two hours. Oh, how I love kissing ass.” The sarcasm drips from his tone.
“Thanks, Rich.”
“Anything for Mr. Wolf.”
I hang up with a sigh of relief. There. That problem is fixed. Now I can take his suit to the cleaners and go home. To sleep, after a mentally and physically long but exciting day.
I move for the suit still draped over the chair. As I get closer, I catch the sound of the shower in Henry’s room running.
“He’s your boss, he’s your boss, he’s your boss...” I chant as I fold his clothing over my arm, inhaling the smell of his cologne that clings to the material. He smells divine. What I’d do to burrow my nose in his neck again.
Turning to leave, my eyes can’t help but veer to the narrow space where the bedroom door doesn’t quite meet the wall. It’s a perfect sightline to the bathroom. I expect the pocket door to be pulled closed.
It’s not.
And the shower room is so large that the steam doesn’t do a good enough job of fogging up the glass.
Henry’s back is to me, his hands working shampoo through his hair, the soap running down in rivulets over hard round ass cheeks and down sinewy thighs. I don’t know when he works out but he must—religiously—to have a sculpted body like that.
My mouth drops open.
I can’t be watching this. He shouldn’t have left both doors open, but maybe he did that because he trusts me not to spy through the five-inch opening. I reach for the door handle to give him his privacy, but before I can will myself to pull it shut, I let my greedy eyes find Henry again.
An “Oh my God,” escapes my lips as I watch him turn to face me, the water streaming over his bowed head. He adjusts his stance, spreading his legs farther apart. I can see all of him now, including the cock that juts out in front of him, the swollen end of it stretching toward his navel, almost reaching it.
I’m frozen, half in panic, half in awe as I watch him reach down and fist the base of it and then begin sliding up and down it, slowly, from root all the way to the purplish, round tip.
I gasp. I’m watching my boss jerk off.
And I can’t stop.
First Katie and Rachel, now Henry? I’ve turned into a complete pervert.
And yet I can’t pull my eyes away. This is different from watching Katie and Rachel. Their bodies didn’t turn me on, as attractive as each of them are. It was what they were doing, and the pleasure they were deriving from it, that had my blood flowing.
But here, now... I know I’m reacting to all that is Henry. To his solid, golden form, drenched in water and soap; to the sharp V of his abdomen, leading to a patch of dark hair and the first fully grown man’s penis I’ve ever seen in person; to the highly vulnerable position I’ve caught him in.
Muscles in his forearm cord as his hand picks up speed, sliding down to the base and all the way up, over and over again. He’s huge, so much bigger than what I know of Jed, with my limited experience through his pants. How that would even fit inside a woman, I can’t imagine.
But the dampness in my panties and the deep throb between my legs tells me that I’d like to find out.