Did he mean to leave both these doors open? He knew I was still here, phoning to change reservations. I wasn’t on the phone that long, was I?
My lips part as his hips begin to sway with each stroke, until he’s more thrusting his body than his hand actually doing any work, his balls beneath swinging with the jerky motion. They look heavy and full. That’s what Jed said happens when he’s about to come. He admitted to me that he rubbed himself off in his room sometimes, especially after we’d been kissing or touching. Then he asked me if I did, and I lied to him. I told him that I couldn’t, that I was afraid it would be wrong.
And yet, look at me now.
Above the sound of the showerhead running I can hear Henry’s deep groans, and I find myself licking my suddenly dry lips and panting along with him, wishing those hands were on me, wishing it was my fist wrapped around him, pumping him like that. I don’t even know if my hands are big enough.
I’m now practically leaning against the door, squeezed within the narrow space so I can see him, praying that the glass remains clear enough to watch. He looks almost savage, the way he tugs violently at himself with one hand, while his free hand presses flat against the glass. My legs shake with anticipation as I watch, feeling my breasts grow heavy and my nipples tighten with the anticipation. What will Henry orgasming look like?
Thirty seconds later, I find out as Henry’s lips part and he lets out a series of guttural moans followed by a cry. His powerful naked body stills as white cream shoots out the tip of his cock in streams, hitting the glass wall. His hand slows as he milks himself, his chest heaving in and out with his deep breaths.
This is definitely when I should leave. Heck, I should have never peeked through that narrow space in his room in the first place. I should have grabbed the suit from the chair and kept going.
So when Henry abruptly looks up, as if sensing someone watching him, and our gazes lock, my stomach drops to the floor like a rock.
For three long, heart-stopping seconds, I stare into Henry’s piercing blue eyes. And then I bolt out of Penthouse Cabin One, clutching his suit to my chest.
Chapter Thirteen
How long before Henry fires me? Will it be tonight? Or tomorrow morning? Will he do it himself, or have Belinda give me a shove off? Something in my gut tells me she might not mind that.
He trusted me and I let him down.
The water in the stall next to me shuts off.
“What is that delicious smell?” Katie calls out.
I smile despite my anxiety, lathering my sore, stressed body. I always take pride in someone fawning over a product of mine. “Mint soap. Homemade.” After a nerve-wracking day, there’s nothing more soothing than creamy coconut-oil-based herbal soaps and a hot shower.
“Homemade as in you made it?”
“Yup.”
“You know how to make that kind of stuff?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty easy.” If I were in Greenbank, I’m sure I’d be occupying my time and broken heart by making truckloads right now. I kind of miss the process, but I couldn’t bring my supplies here. No way Alaska Airlines would have let me fly with a vat of lye. Plus, I figured I wouldn’t have the facilities or time to make anything.
My shower curtain suddenly glides open and I gasp, one arm flying to do a poor job of covering my breasts, my free hand fanning between my legs.
Katie adjusts the white towel that’s wrapped around her body. “Relax. I see naked women all day long, Abbi.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Can I see the soap for a minute?”
I uncover my breasts reluctantly and hold out the hand with the bar. I can’t say the last time anyone besides my doctor has seen me naked. People are meant to change behind closed doors, alone. More sage advice from Beverly Mitchell.
Katie takes it from me and holds it up to her nose. She inhales deeply, then runs her thumb over it. “Heavenly. And it doesn’t look gross, like other homemade soaps.”
“I guess not.” I pause, the hot water streaming down my back as the front of me gets chilled with the draft. “You know you could have waited until I was done.”
She slaps the bar back into my hands. “I wanted to see how it lathers. If you have any extra, I’d love a bar. I forgot my organic soaps at home and I couldn’t find anything in Homer.” Her crystal-blue eyes drop to my naked body, dancing over my arms and neck, lingering on my breasts for a moment, before lifting to my face again. “You should be more confident in your own skin. You have no reason to hide that body.”
“Um... Thanks?” That’s the second person who’s made reference to my confidence today. Do I really wear my insecurity so openly?
“And seriously, let me help you with that jungle.” Her eyes dip to where my hand hides my pubic hair. “I have all my waxing stuff in the cabin. It’ll take me fifteen minutes and you’ll have an extra neat and tidy little Brazilian when I’m done with you.”
“Great.” I reach for the curtain, hoping that gives her the signal.
Katie just laughs and strolls away, leaving me feeling equal parts flattered by the compliments of a woman who obviously appreciates the female body, and outright violated.
Then I remind myself that I stood there and watched my boss jerk off in his own shower not more than two hours ago. I have no right to complain. Sure, he could have closed the door. But he said that he trusted me to do my job well and with full discretion.
What I did was the opposite of discreet.
And now I find myself staring down at my pubic hair that Katie called a jungle. That’s a bit harsh. Maybe more “burning bush,” the color matching my hair color, unfortunately. Sure, I haven’t shaved my bikini line. I only do that in the summer, to avoid embarrassing hairs from sticking out of my bathing suit. Am I supposed to do it during other times of the year?
Even in the privacy of my shower, my cheeks heat. How am I so utterly clueless about these things?
~ ~ ~ ~
“How was your first day in Penthouse One?” Autumn asks. The frame above me jostles as she settles in. Only Lorraine and Rachel are still out, working later shifts.
“Fine.”
“Just fine? What are the guests like? Did you have much to do?”
I sigh, dreading where I know this conversation is going to go. “Actually, Mr. Wolf is staying in Penthouse One.”
Autumn’s body comes rolling off the top of the bunkbed at the same time that Tillie turns to stare at me. “What?” they both exclaim in unison.
“You’re Mr. Wolf’s private housekeeper?” Tillie’s pretty face twists with shock and, I’m guessing, envy.
Am I even supposed to talk about this? “He hired me to be his personal assistant.”
“Personal assistant?” They both echo, their shock only multiplying.
“You guys sound like parrots,” Katie chuckles. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed in her robe, brushing freshly blow-dried hair, seemingly unfazed.
“Yeah. Stunned me, too.”
“What are you doing for him?” Tillie asks.
“I manage his calendar and his e-mail, I clean his cabin, book excursions for him and whoever he’s entertaining that day. Honestly, I’m not sure yet.” I can’t help but glance at the phone he gave me, dread filling me as I wait for my punishment. Will it be a text dismissal or, better yet, a request to see him right away so he can look me in the eye as he fires me?
I shouldn’t have spied on him like that for so many reasons, including the visual now firmly emblazoned in my mind of his powerful, savage thrusts and his perfect body. How will I ever face him again?
“You are a fucking bitch,” Tillie mutters. When my mouth drops open, she waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t mind me. I’m cranky and PMSing and completely jealous.”
“Anything juicy to share about our handsome boss?” Katie asks, sliding her robe off her body to reveal a lacy white bra and panties. She reaches for her jeans. I guess she’s heading out to the staff lounge.