Henry’s chuckle is menacing as his feet close the distance, slow and measured, until he’s within my personal space. “Don’t be so naïve, Abbi. Trust me. He can smell that virgin pussy from a mile away and he wants it.”
I inhale sharply, his words building a throb between my legs, despite my unease. Did he just say that to me? And is he right? Michael is attracted to me? “So what if he does want that?”
“Is he what you want?” There’s a challenge there, sitting on a razor sharp edge that I’m afraid to near. Several painfully long seconds pass, the tension in the air thick and heady and then a wicked smirk captures his lips. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s show?”
It takes me only a split second to know what he’s referring to with the whiplash-fast change in topic.
My mouth hangs open, incapable of speech. How do I answer that? With the obvious truth? Yes, I loved seeing Henry naked. Yes, I loved seeing him—the powerful and controlled Mr. Wolf—vulnerable. Yes, the sight of him stirred desires that have haunted me ever since.
But I can’t admit to any of that. He hired me because he isn’t attracted to me. He hired me because he wanted an assistant who would understand boundaries, like the ones I’ve already crossed.
“I shouldn’t have... I mean, I didn’t mean to...” I stumble over my words.
“Are you sure you didn’t mean to?” He inches closer. He’s too intense, this is too much. I avert my gaze, but his finger finds my chin, prodding until my head tips back to meet his penetrating eyes. Those cold blue eyes aren’t cold anymore. They’re raging. “Not even two days.”
“What?” My voice cracks.
“I knew I shouldn’t have hired you,” he whispers absently, as if speaking more to himself.
“Does that mean you’re firing me?” I fight against the tears that begin to well.
Henry merely shakes his head. The relief with that simple gesture is nearly paralyzing.
His finger slips from my chin. He begins working at the buttons of his dress shirt until he’s peeling it away from his body and tossing it on the bed. His t-shirt comes off next.
His gaze, it never leaves me, even when mine can’t help but drop.
Dear God, that chest. It’s tanned and hard and I want to slide my hands all over it, feel the ridges of his collarbone, the soft skin of his nipples. The burn of his naked skin under my fingertips.
“There should be an e-mail from Belinda in my inbox,” he says, switching smoothly back to work.
I avert my eyes to the view beyond the window, still bright and so “off” for the mood in this room. “Why do you make me come in here while you’re undressing?” I whisper. It’s so inappropriate for him to do this. Not only because he’s my boss.
He knows I’m attracted to him.
In my periphery, I catch his brow lift in surprise. “I told you that your job would involve being in close proximity to me. I like using my time efficiently.” A pause. “Do you want to leave?”
No. I like being near him, even when my stomach is doing complete flips.
“Why do you think I ask you in here while I’m undressing?”
There’s only one reason I can come up with. “Because you like to see me squirm.”
“Look at me.”
My eyes snap back with his command and I find that sexy dimple waiting with his smirk. He can read my attraction to him plain as day. “You’re right, I do. And maybe I like testing you.”
“Why?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and my lips instantly turn dry. “Because every time I’m sure I have a handle on you, you surprise me.”
A “handle” on me? Abigail Mitchell from Greenbank, Pennsylvania? I’m pretty uncomplicated. And, by the way he talked about me to Belinda, it sounded like he’s already figured that out.
I guess maybe he never expected me to watch him in the shower. To be fair, I never expected to have the nerve to do that. Before coming here, I wouldn’t. And he’s not firing me for it, even though I crossed the line—again—and, this time, sober.
But is he angry with me about it? “How do I surprise you? In a bad way?”
“Some would think so,” he answers cryptically. He reaches up to slide the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.
For someone who finds me unattractive, he’s giving off some seriously conflicting signals. Or maybe that’s just me, being clueless and stupid and wishful again. Either way... “I’m confused,” I whisper.
He meets my eyes again. “I know you are. That’s part of your charm, isn’t it?”
We simply stare at each other as the seconds pass, my heart pounding, my knees shaking as he hovers, his bare chest begging to be touched.
Finally, his hand drops to his side. “I don’t want Michael touching you like that again. Or anyone here, for that matter.”
Is he even allowed to demand that? “Why not?”
“Because, you’re—” He presses his lips together, cutting himself off. “Because they’re not good enough for you.”
Michael seems like a genuinely nice guy. If he’s not good enough for me, and no one else here is good enough, then how am I supposed to get over Jed? Didn’t Henry say that I should spend the next four months fucking someone in every position imaginable?
I can’t keep my eyes from his plump, pink lips. Nearly feminine, they’re so shapely. I ran my tongue across those wet, soft lips only days ago, when I was drunk and clueless.
What about the Mr. Wolf, the man who strolls through the halls in his designer suits, capturing women’s lustful gazes and drawing men’s envy?
But he told Belinda he didn’t want me.
Fire sparks in Henry’s eyes. He reaches back to wrap his fist around my braid. He tugs on it gently, forcing my head back. His whisper is oddly tender in comparison. “You’re my assistant, Abbi.”
I have to ask it. Instinctively, I know it’s the wrong question to ask, but I can’t help myself. “And if I wasn’t?”
I shiver as his fingertip drags along my collarbone, down along the neckline of my blouse to dip into my cleavage, the simple touch tightening my nipples and making my breasts heavy, begging to be undressed, exposed, touched.
So suddenly, he robs me of his touch and I shudder with the loss.
“I want you to open that e-mail from Belinda and be ready to brief me on its contents.” And he’s back to work already.
It takes me a few seconds and a few tattered breaths to collect myself. Henry has intentionally changed the topic, shuttering his eyes to hide all emotion, even taken a step back.
He has controlled himself.
I struggle to clear my throat. “What time do you want me here in the morning?”
A slight frown touches his beautiful face. “No. Not tomorrow. We need to do it now, while Michael’s working on me.”
While he’s lying naked on the table?
He smirks, unfastening his belt. “What’s wrong? Now the sweet, virtuous Abbi is too shy to watch? After what you’ve seen, this should be nothing.”
My cheeks burn, but I meet his eyes and see the challenge in them. Did it bother him at all that I watched him in the shower? I’m beginning to think not, which means he’s been toying with me all this time, putting me through hell for his own amusement. That’s not nice.
With a defiant set of my jaw, I stand my ground on wobbly knees, waiting for him to dismiss me. His hands slow for a moment over his zipper. When I don’t move, understanding sparks in his eyes. He cocks his head, amusement taking over.
And then he lets his pants drop to the carpet with a soft swooshing sound.
I keep my eyes locked on his, fighting the compelling urge to look down. I sense rather than see his thumbs running along the elastic of his briefs.
And still I don’t move. Where is this nerve coming from?
Stretching the elastic away from his body, he peels his briefs off and lets them drop to the floor, too.