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“I don’t know, Mr. Edwards. I haven’t even heard anything regarding your rules yet. I’m getting light-headed from overthinking, or maybe it’s just the wine.”
“Christ,” he breathes, joining me across the room. “I figured this would be easy for you, considering your line of work, that is.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I argue, forcing a laugh. “I’m under-qualified for this, really, I am—”
“That may be true, Sasha,” he says, searching my eyes with heated passion. “Although, I’m always up for a challenge.”
My nerves instantly kick in. “Maybe,” I reply.
“You look exhausted. Sleep on it.” He holds out his hand to me, and it takes me a few agonizing seconds before I accept. “You’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“Oh?”
“I chose to not share a bed with my Subs.”
We reach the door of the guest room.
“Is there a reason for that, Mr. Edwards?” I ask.
“There is. This is a different type of relationship,” he explains, briefly hesitating. “Sleeping together leans more on an emotional connection, a different bond, and that’s not what I’m searching for. Besides, I like my space.”
“And I like mine,” I reply.
His eyes narrow, and he nods. “Goodnight, Ms. Pierce. I look forward to seeing you in the morning.”
Turning away, he appears to be distracted.
Pushing open the bathroom door, I sleepily strip off my clothes. The water trails down my body, my muscles finally relaxing from how tense I’ve become. I try desperately to let my mind go blank, so I don’t have to think about this deal I’m being offered, but it’s impossible.
Turning off the lights in the guest room, crawling sleepily into bed, I’m left pondering about the other end of this.
Thirty thousand dollars. It’s worth it. I’ll have the money.
But most of all, I’ll havehim.
* * *
Wakingup to a gentle breeze against my skin, there’s a blinding light shining in through an opened window. Slowly opening the door, I peek my head through the doorway.
There’s a dull silence.
After making my way down the hall, I realize Mr. Edwards is nowhere to be found.
Standing only inches away from the master bedroom, I finally gather the courage to knock on the door, and there’s no answer.
Since the door is slightly cracked, I open it further, and the sound of running water is heard. Without thinking it through, I find myself peaking inside the bathroom.
My gaze locks on the shower, the thin wall of glass allowing a blurry outlining of his body. His ass appears firm, and I can almost see the tone of muscle in his arms and back, while his hand runs through his hair. He is perfection.
God-like.
“Good morning, Ms. Pierce.” His voice unexpectedly echoes, bringing me back to reality. “Did you sleep well?”
Embarrassment strikes me hard as I tuck a strand of hair nervously behind my ear.
“Yes, very well,” I stammer.
The water stops running.
