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She slipped the throw she had wrapped herself in onto the ground, padded over to the shower, and turned it on. The room slowly started to fill up with steam, and the heat from the water started to make her skin damp. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and let her gaze travel down her nude body.
Leaning forward and running her hand over the glass to clear the fog, she stared at the little fingertip-sized bruises that lined her hips. She ran her fingers over them, remembered how they had gotten there, and felt this tingle start to encompass her.
God, she felt like a nympho. No, she wouldn’t think about this in any other context than she was fulfilling her end of the deal, and once it was said and done she could put this all behind her.
You’re a fool to think you can, especially when you work for the man.
That was true, but then again, she could fake it like she had many times. She could hide her feelings for him, let her anger and hatred for Rian Hartford fill her instead of being buried beneath her desire to have him.
All she kept thinking about was Rian walking in and joining her. The idea was tempting, arousing even, but she didn’t want to fall even harder for this man. Right now it was just about the sex and the pleasure she wanted from him, and she was sure it was the same way for him.
Her thoughts went to when they had been together for the second time, how he had been slow, easy, and it had seemed like he was making love to her.
He had whispered things in her ear that were endearments, how beautiful her body was, and how good she felt. It was like a completely different person from the man she loved to hate. If he kept showing her little glimpses of a decent man inside of the bastard he portrayed ninety-nine percent of the time, Sorcha had a feeling she might start to look at him in a different light.
After her shower she grabbed the thick, white robe that was folded with the towels, and slipped it on. She had forgotten to grab her clothes, and although Rian had already seen every part of her last night, that didn’t mean she was comfortable with walking around nude. Sorcha was curvy, thick with plenty of flaws. What exactly had he been thinking when she was naked in front of him?
Who the hell cares what he thought?
Leaving the bathroom and heading over to her bag she dressed in a tunic style blouse and a pair of black leggings. She finger-combed her hair, and then twisted the long, wet strands into a messy bun. Sorcha had never been one for primping, not even when she went into the office.
If she was going to be with Rian for the next week then he’d need to get used to seeing her without the business dresses and skirts, without her hair curled or straightened, and with no make-up on.
Heading out of the room and down the long, ornate hallway, she stopped in the entryway and stared into the living room. Everything was pretty still, and even with the view of the city right in front of her, the glass was thick and no sound penetrated it. Sorcha felt like this fish in a clear bowl, just waiting for someone to come up and start tapping on the glass.
The kitchen was just as quiet as the living room, and a glance down the hallway again showed that there was no movement from the three open doorways. Was he gone? She would have assumed he would have told her at least. Rian didn’t have any appointments for a couple of days, and that was for a dinner gala for a charity organization.
She slipped back down the hallway, glanced in the doorways, and saw the expensively decorated bedrooms. There were three in the apartment, two bathrooms, the kitchen and living room, and then one other door at the end of the hallway that was closed. Making her way toward it, she knew she should just wait for him to come back to her. This was his home, it was early, and maybe he wanted some alone time?
She thought that, but still reached out and gripped the handle, turned it, and pushed the door open. Inside was another room, but this one was broken up into two levels. She saw the banister from the stairs as they descended to the lower level. She stepped inside, glanced around, and saw the hundreds upon hundreds of books. They lined the floor to ceiling shelves on either side of her.
There were a few couches on either side as well, a reading nook pressed against the window, and a desk in the corner. Clearly this was his office, and she felt very out of place, almost like she was invading his privacy.
