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I told her in the rental that we have dinner with our client at five, and she didn't respond. At least I know she was listening.
She disappears into the bathroom and immediately startsplaying pop music at full blast. Did she bring a speaker in there with her? God, that shit is loud.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing a palm against my forehead. I can’t listen to this shit for the next hour.
I step in front of the closed door.
“Roxanne,” I bellow, rapping a fist against the door. “Turn that down.”
“What?” she shouts over the music like she can’t hear me, even though I know she can.
“Turn that shit down,” I bark.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” she hums loudly before singing along with the music, completely tuning me out.
I thump my head against the door, knowing that this is a losing battle. I also can’t get the idea of her dancing naked in the shower out of my head. My dick thickens behind my slacks at the mouth-watering visual.
She promised to give me hell this weekend, and I fear that this is only the beginning.
Forty-five minutes later,Roxanne finally steps out of the bathroom and sends my jaw to the fucking floor.
Her lips tilt up in a sexy smirk because she knows exactly what she’s doing. She knows exactly how hot she looks, and she’s going to use it against me. I just know it.
She’s the sharp end of a sword, and I’m a beating heart, waiting to be pierced to the hilt.
Dammit.Why couldn't Skylar have hired anyone else on the planet but her? I’m not built for this shit. My dick doesn't have this much self-restraint.
Roxanne’s inky-black hair falls like silk around her shoulders, curving around her full breasts. Her lips are painted rubyred, which she knows drives me fucking crazy. It’s as if she knows how many times I’ve imagined those lips wrapped around my cock.
Her satin dress matches her hair, midnight black and stopping mid-thigh. She’s wearing a black blazer over her dress, adding a touch of professionalism to her look. But the jacket fails to hide how fucking plump her tits look in that dress. I can almost see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.
My eyes trail down her smooth legs until my gaze stops on her black heels. She knows I’m watching because she twists her foot, letting me see the shiny, red bottoms.
Holy fucking shit. I’ve never been so turned in my entire life.
A woman dressed in all black with red lips and red bottoms. My wet dream standing before me.
If she’s trying to make this trip my own personal hell, then she’s successfully done just that. Because keeping my hands off of her tonight is going to be the fight of my life.
Not only does she look amazing, but she smells even better. She must know that I love her strawberry-scented perfume because she definitely sprayed extra tonight. I lick my bottom lip before tugging it between my teeth, unable to calm my breathing.
I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and hold my head up high like she doesn't affect me, even though every vein in my body is thrumming just for her.
“Since when do you wear Louboutins?” I ask, my voice low and gravelly.
She shrugs, her lips turning up in a sexy smile.
“I only wear them on special occasions.” She flashes me a wink that goes straight to my cock.
My heart wants me to tell her how sexy she looks. My head wants me to tell her to go back into that bathroom and changeher outfit because the thought of any man other than me seeing her like this drives me fucking crazy. My dick wants me to cancel the dinner and spend the evening with her crimson lips wrapped around my cock while she kneels in her heels.
But deep in my gut, I know she’s just trying to get under my skin. And I refuse,absolutely refuse, to let her know she’s winning.
So I nonchalantly stroll past her, turning my back to her as I head straight for the door.
“Let’s head out,” I say over my shoulder like I’m bored. “We don’t wanna be late.”
I open the door, bracing my hand on the doorframe as I wait for Roxanne to follow.
