Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
The jets’ pressure softened, and I climbed out of the tub.
With rubber legs, I strolled toward a tray of chilled wine and poured a glass.
I downed it in one gulp and poured another.
Then another.
“It’s been so long…” I moaned. “So damn long.”
I carried my last one across the room, following the arrows toward the steam room.
I was halfway there when Mr. Dawson stepped out of the shower, stark naked.
Too stunned to move, I watched him splash his face with water.
The muscles in his back flexed, and as he turned around, my jaw unhinged and dropped to the floor.
Every muscle from his chest to his abs was carved to perfection. As I lowered my gaze past his stomach, I held in a breath at the sight of his cock.
Rock-hard and jutting forward like it was ready for me to ride it, it was also etching its place in my fantasies for years to come.
He’s so fucking massive…
My mouth watered as I envisioned him owning my body in his bed.
Snap out of it, Harlow snap out of it.
Clutching my wine glass, I stole one last look at him and stepped backward.
When I reached the doorway, I turned around—well, I tried to.
My head refused to follow my feet’s lead. My hair was stuck on something.
What the hell?
I reached up to pull it free, yanking my head forward, but it didn’t give.
Shit.
I stopped resisting and remained still, hoping Mr. Dawson would walk away without noticing me.
He rolled his head from the left to the right, softly groaning as he stretched.
His eyes met mine in the mirror, and he smiled.
“Hello, Miss Hawthorne.” He turned around, giving me a much better view of his body. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah, well—” My cheeks burned. “Feel free to keep that same energy and act like I’m not here. Treat me like I’m part of the decor.”
Amused, he let out a low laugh and strolled toward me.
“Are you drinking on the job?” he asked, looking at my glass. “Better yet, tell me, what type of wine is it?”
This man isn’t going to put on a towel?
“It’s a merlot,” I said. “1986.”
“That’s a good year.” He grabbed the glass from my hand and sipped slowly. “Very good year…”
“I agree.” I said, ignoring the fact that his cock was brushing against my thigh. “I thought you were hosting a party tonight.”
“I was. I left early.”
“Can you please put a towel on?”
“Why?” He smirked. “Don’t you like what you see?”
“There’s a stack of towels right there by your foot.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“Your children are with your mother.” I tried to navigate our conversation to someplace safe. “She said she’d mention it to you.”
“Answer my question, Harlow Hawthorne.” The way he said my name sent a rush of warmth through my body. “Do you like what you see?”
“I see towels.”
Smiling, he bent down and grabbed one. He didn’t wrap it around his waist, though.
Instead, he wrapped it around my hips like I was the stark-naked one.
“It looks like your hair is caught on my favorite sconce,” he said. “Would you like me to help you get off?”
“Get it off?” I said. “As in, my hair away from the sconce?”
“You heard me.”
“I would like you to put on a damn towel.”
His dimples deepened as he fluffed the towel a few times and slipped it behind his back. He eyed me as he brought the ends together as slowly as possible.
“Thank you,” I said. “And yes, I would appreciate your help. I’m hoping to use your salon to get a deluxe makeover before the end of the night.”
“Hmmm.” He leaned closer and threaded his fingers through my hair.
He was wearing a different cologne today, with a scent even more intoxicating than usual.
Sliding his hand behind my neck, he pulled strands of my hair away from the sconce. His lips moved closer with every release.
Kiss me. Please fucking kiss me…
“Mr. Dawson?” someone called from the hallway. “Mr. Dawson, are you still in there?”
Focusing on me, he freed the last strand and ran his fingers through my hair one more time.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“By the way,” he said. “You don’t need a makeover and you don’t need makeup. That’s a waste of your time.”
“Is that your way of giving me a compliment?”
“I’m stating facts.” He reached out to touch me again, leaning close as if he were going to kiss me.
“There you are, sir!” The voice neared, forcing him to step away from me. “Hurry up and get dressed for the final toast! Everyone is waiting for you to cut the cake!”
Sighing, he slowly looked me up and down before leaving the spa.
SIXTEEN
PIERCE
Please remind me what I said to you before this trip.
Jerry
Keep your mother away from all the minibars.
The OTHER thing, Jerry.
The #1 thing…
Stay the hell away from the nanny.
Thank you.
SEVENTEEN
HARLOW
A completed yacht sailing & a full day later