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Skills I wanted to test out myself.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe I would regret it in the morning.
Maybe I wouldn’t.
Instead of biting, I whispered the code to my door, and I gripped my drink and disappeared into my private room. The second the door closed behind me, I stripped off the silk dress from my body and placed it in the armoire. I removed the heels from my feet, and those went inside the wooden chest as well. I took off my necklace and earrings and rings, setting them in a small dish before I shut the door and climbed onto the table.
Seven minutes.
It seemed like such a small amount of time, but as the cold leather pressed against my back and I found the position in which I would stay for at least the next hour, I couldn’t stop the anxiety. Or my brain from wandering. Or the fantasies playing in my head.
I’d imagined myself in this same spot from the moment I’d first laid eyes on Bale.
Would he live up to my expectations?
Would I leave Lush this evening with every need satisfied?
Would he become a Wednesday partner? Thursday?
Saturday?
Or would he replace Jacob while I was in Miami?
Five minutes.
There wasn’t a clock in this room. Time was just something I saw in my head. Seconds were like colors. Minutes were like figures. I didn’t need an alarm or a watch—I could feel the passing; I could call out the precise number at any moment.
That was how I knew the sounds coming from my door—the pressing of the numbers, the clicking of the lock, the turning of the handle—came four minutes early.
And the moment Bale entered, the air in the room changed.
A wave came across me, like a dense San Francisco fog.
Every pore in my body opened.
My senses went into overdrive.
My nipples were their hardest.
I didn’t make eye contact as the door shut, as he rubbed his hands together and walked to the head of the table, his fingers landing on the leather on either side of my face.
“I know I’m four minutes early.” Using only one finger from each hand, he traced across the top of my shoulders, down to my elbows. “I’m not Jacob. I don’t abide by his rules. I set my own.”
His touch wasn’t like a feather; it wasn’t as hard as a clamp either.
It was moderate.
And perfect.
“Time isn’t going to be the only surprise tonight, Pepper.”
Time.
He knows.
I moaned.
