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I push the image of us naked and writhing out of my head, trying to regain my mental footing. "And you're so sure that whomever was watching would like what they saw?"
His lips twist into a wider smile. "Well, you certainly seem to,” he chuckles.
"Just part of the job," I say, giving him a winning smile. "I have to be familiar with you so I can imagine you in a space."
"You're free to imagine me however you like."
I ignore the dare implied in his words, trying to turn it back on him. "Ah, well, this isn't about what I like. It's about what you like. Speaking of which, could you tell me some things you enjoy in a home? It might help with the search."
He smiles, and I wonder what he's thinking. If it's anything close to what I imagined about that bed…It doesn’t matter. I’m a professional, and I’m going to sell this man a house. "I want the best."
The best. That's very specific. Well, if he wants to be coy with his preferences, at least I can give him exactly what he wants right now. “Let’s go to the next house then. As it happens, the bedroom is full of windows. You'll be free to imagine whomever and whatever you like.”
I turn and walk out of the room without seeing if he’ll follow. I’m just making it to the top of the stairs when he overtakes me. He passes me, and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s subtle and spicy and perfect because you have to be this close to him to smell it at all. He places his hand on the small of my back as he passes, murmuring an excuse me. And as he passes his hand drifts lower, deliberately across my ass before it’s gone.
I’m so shocked that I miss a step. I feel that terrifying sense of empty space and the horrifying realization that I’m going to fall down the stairs in front of my client. Because of my client. A small corner of my mind wonders if this is how I’ll die and whether or not I’ll go down in realtor history as one of the most embarrassing people to ever enter the profession. All this in a second, and then an arm comes around me and I’m not falling. Instead I’m looking straight into the eyes of Derek Conway.
I’m pressed up against his body and I can see how deep green his eyes are. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that color. Really gorgeous. I can smell his cologne again and I realize both that I’m staring and that I really would be happy not moving from this spot. I can feel the hardness of his body through his clothes and I feel my body reacting to his. I’m warm and fuzzy and aroused. There’s concern and mild panic written across Derek’s face. “Are you all right?”
Inside, my mind is cheering. HELL YES I’m okay, and I'd be even more okay if you took me back into that bedroom. Out loud I say, “I think so.”
There's a tenderness in his eyes that feels so out of place. It was his fault I fell—kind of. But maybe he knows and he regrets that. I can't be sure. The only thing I'm positive about is how delicious his strong hands feel wrapped around my waist.
My face flushes red again as I push away from him. He hesitates, as if he's debating taking hold of me again. I hurry down the stairs before either of us does something crazy.
If I don’t keep remembering that he’s off limits I may try to jump him no matter how infuriating he is. I’m embarrassed to feel that I’m wet—being that close to him was intoxicating.
I make it down the stairs without further incident. Derek casts one more long look at me before he climbs into his car. I hope he's heading to the next house and not fleeing me and my messed up desires. Either way I'm happy for the brief escape; I need some space to clear my head and put my professional face back on. And I need to keep it on even if he does talk about fucking women in front of giant windows. God, why is that so infuriatingly hot?
It’s not too far a drive to the next mansion, and I manage to calm myself down and review the different aspects I can pitch to him. This mansion is much more edgy in style than the last one—streamlined architecture with a lot of hard angles and more than enough glass. If he wants people to watch him fucking, he’ll be able to do it in practically every room in this house. It has tons of other perks too, a three-car garage, the standard gorgeous pool and I think…yes.
As I’m pulling into the driveway I flip open my file and check the photos. This house also comes with a waterslide. An actual fucking waterslide. I laugh out loud. I’m glad I’m going to get to sell these houses, but sometimes I wonder what people were thinking when they built them.
Not to mention that what someone is going to pay for this house would set me up for life. Even when my bank account isn't dangerously close to zero, I can't imagine having this much money. It must be a completely different kind of life.
I'll settle for my commission which will make the difference between whether or not I even have a place to live. That's the goal, Penelope. Sell him this house. I steel my mind as I exit the car, preparing to make him see that this is a house he can't live without.
Derek had pulled in first, parking his car in front of me. When he steps out I can’t read the expression on his face. Is he upset? And if so, was it because of something I did? I don’t think I can handle him dismissing another house today. It’s already been far more exhausting than I’d imagined.
“This is much better,” he says when I approach him. “But in the future, don’t bother saving the better house for last. I know that's a sales strategy, but I’d rather you not waste my time. I’m a busy man with very little patience.” He reaches up to smooth his hair, never breaking eye contact with me. His voice drops lower. “I told you before—I know what I want, and I’m not accustomed to waiting for it.”
As his gaze travels down my body and lingers, I feel my heart kick up its rhythm. I’m not going to lie, the fact that he’s looking at me at all makes me want to let him into my bed. But why is he acting like an ass? I wasn’t trying to save the best for last, I genuinely thought the last mansion was beautiful. Just because he has a stick up his—
I cut off my line of thought and plaster on a fake smile. It doesn’t matter. Do your job. But... I still let out a bit more sarcasm than needed. “My apologies. I know that searching for a multi-million-dollar home can be so stressful. Shall we look inside?”
Derek takes a single step my way, his face serious and intrigued. My mouth tingles with house close he is to me—we could kiss, if he bent down a hair. "You have quite a mouth on you. Be careful, Penelope. You wouldn't want that mouth to get you into trouble."
From the tone of his voice, I know that his version of trouble and mine are very different. I try not to notice how closely he follows me as I retrieve the key from the realtor’s box. “Maybe we should see the bedroom first,” I say. “If that is of particular importance to you, it’s probably better to judge it before we move on to the rest of the house.”
“I agree,” he says, his voice going rougher... warm around the edges. I want to roll around in his voice like it's catnip.
I haven’t been inside this mansion yet, so I have to consult the floorplan in order to get us to the master suite. It’s on the main floor towards the back of the house, overlooking the spectacular and sprawling lawn. As promised, the bedroom has walls made of windows. I’m not sure I would be willing to sleep in a place that seemed so open. I would always feel like something could sneak in on me. But, as he made abundantly clear, Derek gets what he wants.
When I turn to look at him, I’m surprised. He’s smiling, and not a small one either. The smile on his face is full and breathtaking. All those pictures I’ve seen of him on red carpets and everything else, they don’t do it justice. I find myself getting lost in it.
“This is much better,” he says. “Can you stand over by that window for me?”
I give him a look. “Why?”
“So I can visualize the room better. I find it helps to have someone standing in it, don’t you? So you can imagine what it would be like.”
“I suppose.” I raise an eyebrow, but I move to where he pointed. If it helps me close this house…
“Turn around and look out the window.”
I res
ist the urge to roll my eyes until I’ve already turned around. The grounds are beautiful. The lawn slopes away from the house, leading down to the pool and the pool house. The pool looks delightful, turning a deeper blue in the darkening twilight. I press my hands against the glass, savoring the coolness on my skin and leaning just a little. My feet are starting to kill me in these heels and the leaning helps relieve the pressure.
Suddenly I realize that Derek is right behind me, and I jump. I didn’t hear him come over. I’m going to turn around, but before I can he places his hands over mine on the glass. His arms are surrounding me, and his body is pressing into my back. Once again I’m surrounded by the divine scent of his cologne, spice and water and mountain. I don’t really know what those things smell like but it’s what comes popping into my head when I breathe it in.
He runs his nose along the line of my neck, and I get chills all over my body—the good kind. I hear him inhale and I’m glad I took the extra few seconds to put on my favorite perfume. I should stop this. This isn’t professional. He’s a client and I need to push him away, but his body feels so impossibly good pressed against mine.
