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“Okay, you’re the boss….now.” He played. “Ready for bed?”
I yawned just as he said that. He must’ve read my mind.
I nodded, trying to ignore the suggestion in his eyes. “I need to get my pajamas out of my luggage and take a shower.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are more than welcome to get naked anytime you want, bunny.”
“I need to take a shower alone, Weston,” I clarified.
“Right.” He shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He stood and took my hand to lift me up. The tug almost landed me against his chest, but I kept my balance.
As he rolled our luggage to the other side of the penthouse where the owner’s suite took up the entire wing—I felt like I was taking a trip down memory lane.
I remembered the first time he brought me to his place. He wasn’t one for bringing girls to his inner sanctum. His home was his sanctuary. It was where he was able to escape the demands of his day and just breathe.
Our first actual date took place in the his theater room. We watched old Hitchcock movies for hours; laughing until we cried at the ridiculous scenes of people running from crows. Seeing him so laid back and normal was what won me over the first time. His deep belly laugh was something only I got to see. I missed that.
When we finally got to the bedroom I saw he was right—the bed was massive. It faced the city view below us and I stood at the window, trying to lose myself in that vista. Instead, all I saw was his athletic reflection as he tossed my bag onto the bed.
“All yours,” he said.
Weston shrugged his jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby reading chair. Then he reached his hand onto his back and tugged off his shirt.
I saw his chiseled body for the first time since we reconnected. He was bigger than I remembered. The ripples of his abs were more defined, and his muscles moved with ease as he stepped out of his shoes and started unzipping his pants to slip into some low-hung joggers.
I looked at the window—just a giant plate of glass. He used to have drapes that he would pull over it. Now the window was bare.
“You always give the city a peep show at night?” I asked him, turning to my luggage.
“Jealous, Mrs. Myles?” he asked, amused.
“No, just concerned.” I pulled out a cozy pajama set that covered me well. “And I’m not Mrs. Myles yet.”
“Yet. And the window is one way. Nobody can see in.” He came up behind me and laid a small remote on the bed next to my luggage. “Unless you want them to see.”
I could feel his hardness through the fabric of his pants. His breath was at my neck. Feeling him so close to me made the hair on my body stand on end.
He reached around me, snatched the pajama set from my hand, and tossed it to the floor.
His arm brushed past me, and his hand grabbled through my luggage until he pulled out a skimpy silk cami and short set.
“Wear this one,” he demanded. “It gets hot in my room.”
The implication of his words made my core heat up. I cleared my throat and took the set from his hands.
“Towels?” I asked, my voice a little higher than normal. I walked towards the en suite.
“Bottom cabinet to the right,” he said with a smirk, “but you already know that.”
I nodded and closed the door to the bathroom.
The lights turned on automatically and the floor felt surprisingly warm for it being tile. I remembered having to wear slippers before.
When I got to the shower, I realized Weston must’ve made some upgrades to the bathroom. I didn’t remember there being so many shower heads and buttons.
I placed the pajamas on a rack and slipped out of my sundress.
