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She smiles in her sweet, sexy way. "You're that hot for me. Wow, I'm super flattered."
An impulse I can't deny spurs me to snare her foot with my hand and trace circles on the ball with my thumb. "As tempting as you are, I need to discuss a serious matter with you." I slide my thumb down the side of her foot. "We'll talk in the dining room."
With another fake pout, she drops her arms, and they splash down in the water. "If you insist."
"I do." Releasing her foot, I move to the doorway. "And put on some clothing, please."
As I exit the bathroom, I do not glance back. No, I will not give her any more reasons to believe she has power over me simply because I hunger for her body. My rules will make certain of that.
I get everything set up in the dining room while I wait for Emery.
When she enters the room, I'm seated at one end of the rectangular wooden table. Though a gold chandelier hangs above the table's center, most of the light comes from the two windows. A white pot in the middle of the table holds purple flowers, but I didn't put that there. It was already here when I checked into my suite the other day.
Emery wears dark-blue jeans that cling to her body and a yellow peasant blouse. Even the loose-fitting shirt can't disguise her lovely body, not from me. I've explored every inch of it and know the contours by heart.
I place a neat stack of papers on the tabletop while my portable laser printer spits out more sheets. Seconds later, the printer has completed its task and ceases its whirring. I add the newly printed sheets to my stack.
Emery watches me the entire time.
"Have a seat," I say, waving toward the chair at the opposite end of the table.
She seems confused for a moment, but then she pulls the chair out and drops her erse onto it, propping her feet on the table. Her elbows rest on the chair's arms, and she links her hands over her belly.
I twist my lips into a tight pucker. Why must she always behave in such a haphazard fashion? Feet off the table, I want to say, but that would not be professional.
"What's up?" she asks.
I tap my fingers on the table while I avoid looking at her. Though I shouldn't ask, I find I can't make my mouth obey my wishes. "What were you doing in the bathroom when I knocked? I heard noises."
"Oh, that." She grins. "Since you wouldn't join me, I decided to have a good time all by myself. I was seconds away from my happy ending when you interrupted."
I gawp at her. "You were touching yourself?"
"Bingo. You must've suspected as much, or you wouldn't have asked what I was doing."
I square my shoulders, re-stack my papers that don't need to be stacked again, and struggle to reassert my calm demeanor. "I simply can't understand why you would do that in the daytime."
Why the bloody hell did I say that?
Emery clamps her teeth over her lips while her body shakes faintly with what I take for restrained laughter. "It's okay, Rory. I like your hang-ups. Makes me want to nibble them away one by one with my teeth, my tongue, my lips, my—"
"Enough. I've deduced your meaning."
"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" she asks. "Whether I masturbate in the tub, in the daytime, while you're standing outside the door. Bet you were listening at the keyhole."
"There is no keyhole on the bathroom door."
"Don't be so literal. I'm cool with you being a lech."
"I am not—Never mind." I snatch up a pen and twirl it round and round my middle finger.
"Out of curiosity, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a solicitor."
"That like a pimp?"
I slap the pen down on the table. "No, it's like a lawyer."
