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“Nothing.” He chuckled. “What’s your favorite TV show?”
“Doesn’t matter, you’ll only make fun of me. Let’s learn aboutyou. What’s your favorite color?”
“Red.”
“What’s your favorite ice cream?”
“I don’t eat ice cream unless it’s with cake, pie, or cobbler.”
“Okay, what’s your favorite ice cream with cake, pie, and cobbler?”
“Vanilla.”
I knew he was pretending to be obtuse on purpose, but I refused to give up.
“So. what are your favorite cakes, pies, and cobblers?”
“Chocolate, apple, and peach,” he said as he finished unwrapping my ankle.
Blade stood and tossed the blood-stained gauze in the trash before he strode to the shower. As he adjusted the temperature, his eyes saw clear to my bones.
“Before you ask, my favorite food is fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. My favorite season is fall. I like all kinds of music, everything from Blake Shelton to Pink Floyd. My favorite TV show is the Twilight Zone Marathon. I’ve watched it every New Year’s weekend since I was seven.”
“No way,” I blurted. “That’s my favorite show, too, but I didn’t start watching it until I was ten.”
“See, you were wrong. I wouldn’t have made fun of you,” he said. Wrapping his wide hands around my waist, he gently lifted me off the vanity and carried me toward the shower. “We have a lot in common. I don’t like anchovies, bell peppers, rude, obnoxious people, spiders, snakes, or snow. But I especially don’t likeliars.”
Guilt whipped through me. My heart rate tripled.
He knows. He knows, the voice in my head screamed.
Masking my panic, I swallowed tightly and nodded.
“You need any help getting in?”
“No. I-I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, I’ll put some clothes on the end of my bed for you. If you need anything, holler. I’ll be in the office, right across the hall.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, clutching the edge of the open shower as he walked away, and closed the door.
Heart in my throat, I peeled off my clothes, then hobbled in beneath the steaming spray.
The water temperature was perfect. But even more perfect was the rain forest showerhead spilling over me, while a half a dozen jets pulsating from the wall teased my pebbled nipples and aching clit. After washing my hair and body, I eased onto the marble ledge jutting from the back wall. Then, I lifted my legs, spread my thighs, and rested my heels on the corners of the ledge. The jets pummeled my swollen clit like a lover’s fingers. Closing my eyes, I stroked my folds and invited the restless orgasm prowling inside me to run free.
ChapterFive
Grant
Every cell in my system wanted to burst into the bathroom, strip off my clothes, and drive my swollen cock into her succulent cunt. The longer I spent with the sassy, sexy vixen, the harder I struggled to resist making the filthy fantasies crowding my brain a reality.
“Not yet, fucker. You’ve got lots of digging to do first,” I mumbled, storming to my office.
Whipping out my phone, I uploaded one of her photos to a face recognition app. Ten seconds later, my jaw dropped open, and I sank back in my leather chair when the name Emma Tolliver Bishop appeared on the screen. Before I could even sweep the shock from my brain, the puzzle pieces started snapping into place.
Though I’d never met Emma Bishop, until today, Aubrey—who sent me hundreds of letters while I circled the globe on missions—told me all about her famous, wealthy college roommate, and best friend…Emma Bishop.
Though I had a million and one questions, I felt a sense of relief. I now knew the naked woman in my shower wasn’t hired to find me by one of the dirt-bags I’d hauled to jail. No, she was my late sister’s friend and daughter of multi-billionaire, media mogul, Rupert Bishop.
