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And she was not about to check at past two in the morning. But sleep was elusive. The bed was too soft. The sheets too slippery. The windows in all the wrong spots, the coverings so airtight and well-fitted that they didn’t let in so much as a whisper of streetlight. The house didn’t have any strange humming noises. There weren’t even any foreign smells. It was much more of a luxurious guest room than any hotel she’d ever been in. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t sleep. It was too nice.
She missed the familiar scratch of her sheets at her apartment. Missed her firm mattress with the slight sag on the right-hand side. Missed the buzz of the fridge drifting down the hall, because it was on the verge of giving up on life. She missed the abstract noise of her neighbors above, below, and to the sides of her. Missed being too warm and kicking off all the sheets because she didn’t have AC. She missed cranking up the window, sans screens because her building was old as balls, and letting the fresh night air play over her sticky skin.
Lexi flipped onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, white and featureless above her. The light fixtures hanging down were square and modern. There was no light in the room, but she could make it out since she’d been lying there for so long in the pitch black.
She kept telling herself that her inability to sleep had nothing to do with the TFB sleeping in the room next to hers.
Nothing with a capital N O T H I N G.
She’d heard his steps, around midnight, retreating to his room. She’d held her breath and waited, tense in the bed. Unfortunately, she could tell his room was right next to hers. She’d heard him banging around in the room, opening drawers and then the shower flicked on. The freak had an en-suite bathroom. Probably had a tub in there the size of a small state that he never used. He showered for a while and she tried to keep her breathing even the whole time. She didn’t want to think about her boss in there, soaking wet, water running down what was most definitely a killer body.
Thinking about abs, straining muscles and veiny veins did nothing for her cause. She was restless and disgustingly warm except in the terrible spots where shivers had suddenly taken over, namely up her spine and between her thighs.
The thing was, she wanted to hate the TFB. It made everything easier. It made it easier to lie to herself about the guy not being a walking sex toy. It might be crass, but she was sure that every single part of him was made just to give and receive pleasure. She didn’t want to think like that. She’d heard stories though, about James’ conquests and his prowess. Whispered mutterings in the lunchroom here and there. He never dipped his cock into anything at work. He kept it strictly professional in the office, but then again, most people who worked there weren’t under the age of fifty, but word got around about his out of work activities.
Lexi did not want to think about her being an instrument and James playing her really, really well. If sex was a sport, he’d probably be very good at freestyling. The guy was also rich as hell, stylish as sin, and as gorgeous as the product of two gods going at it until they created something beyond even perfection. The guy looked like he was always magazine ready. Probably because posing was the only thing he was actually good at.
Finally, around three, her body on fire, beyond disgusted with herself for noticing that her boss was a smoking hot forest fire and that she wasn’t capable of putting out the sparks he was raining all over her body just by existing, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand. It was turned down to silent so that it wouldn’t go off and wake anyone up. Damn Curtis James anyway. She’d never felt like this when she saw him at work. A little maybe, but now, it was like being in his house did something to her. Like he was a plague and she’d finally got too close and he’d infected her. Bubonic Baby also had a nice alliteration to it. Nearly better than Trust Fund Baby.
His only flaw, aside from being incredibly spoiled, entitled, and over-indulged, was the fact that he hated kids. God, that was a massive turn off.
With a silent huff of disgust, aimed mostly at herself, Lexi flipped on her phone. She just about blinded herself with the white light and had to blink away the tears of pain that sprung to her eyes. She typed silently, sending out a middle of the night SOS to anyone that might be up.
