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When I spin to look at him, there’s a grim sharpness to the lines of his face that causes my heart to collapse into my stomach. A man shouldn’t be this beautiful and beastly all at once. It’s not natural. It’s not human. But it’s him. Simultaneously alluring and intimidating.
“You are not washed.” Walking towards the bathroom, he scowls down at my soggy ballet pumps with a shake of his head. “Do I have to wash you myself?”
“I’m not dirty.” The remark blusters out, taking all the air from my lungs when he faces me again.
Bloody hell, he’s a beast.
The fitted black top leaves little to the imagination. There isn’t a single muscle on him that isn’t cut and sculpted to perfection. If this is apparent with his clothes on, I can only conclude that every naked line is etched deep, and each slab is roped.
Henry’s got the airs of a prince, the body of a soldier, and the attitude of a god. A volatile and commanding god that betrays very little mercy or softness, if he actually has any.
“Do you want to catch a cold?” I shake my head in response, earning myself an exasperated growl from him as he disappears into the bathroom.
It’s a moment before the sound of running water fills the room and Henry reappears. A heated thrill rushes through me at the sight of him ready to take matters into his own hands. However, it’s followed by fear as he toes his chelsea boots off and places them by my shoes.
An inexplicable dread makes me question my appearance. Both Mary and Catherine have toned, nipped, and tucked bodies. Nothing jiggles when they move. Their boobs are perfectly high and just the right size so that they don’t need constant support. I’m not like them.
I hate exercise, and my diet revolves around what I can afford and what I have time to cook. Not that I can actually cook. I can’t. I’m not fat, but I’m not skinny. My tits aren’t itty-bitty perky pear drops, and my hips are generous to match.
“Well?” he asks, standing a few feet in front of me.
“I’m fine. I don’t—”
“When you’re here, you do as I want.” The remark cuts through my words. “You’re here to serve me. To please me.” Henry comes closer. My eyes are glued to his broad chest as he tells me, “I want you to get in there. Wash the rain off your body and warm yourself up. Not a single part of this is a request or an option. It’s a command, and I’m paying you to obey.”
Glancing up at him, I swallow down the niggling feeling balling in the back of my throat.
I’m not a whore, I tell myself over and again. I’m not a whore.
But the basis of our relationship is money. He pays me for my time by the hour. Until now, he hasn’t touched me. Yesterday and the day before were blips on his promise to never touch me or fuck me. However, today, something’s shifted in him. As much as I’m curious, I’m also nervous.
“Off you go,” he instructs me, taking the drink from my hand and placing it on top of the chest drawers closest. “Get in there and do as you are told. For once.”
Drawing a deep breath, I nod and slowly trudge to the bathroom. He’s following behind me. The immensity of his presence looms in the open doorway as I get inside the bathroom and freeze at the sight of the large tub and the overhanging shower still spraying into it.
“Shower…bath…” he murmurs from behind me as I pull my turtleneck over my head and look over my shoulder to find him watching me intently.
Again, I recall Mary’s words. He likes to watch. Is that what he intends to do?
Is he going to watch me?
Dark eyes follow the trajectory of my top when I discard it on the floor beside me. My heart is thumping into my ribs, making it hard to catch my breath when he leans into the doorframe. Every single one of my pores is buzzing with a staggering heat that only grows the longer we watch each other.
I’m unnerved and on the verge of imploding. Meanwhile, he looks as cool as a cucumber. Right in his comfort zone. Settled in for the show.
Unbuttoning my chinos becomes the most clumsy act of my life. With my hands trembling, I fumble with the button, the hook, and the zip. Sweat begins to form on my skin, even though I’m shivering as goosebumps pimple all over my body.
God.
Fuck.
Shit. Shit, shit…shit.
I tug the trousers over my hips, dragging in breath after breath to try settling myself. But he’s watching me. I feel his stare rake over me, and slowly my dread booms into a bellyaching knot of anticipation when I bend over to peel my chinos off my legs, and he groans. The rumble cuts through the spray of the water, a low curse that echoes silently around the room, growing to a deafening gong inside me.
What’s he going to do while he watches me? I glance back at him as I straighten.
The sight of him all pent up and coiled tight sets me ablaze. Henry’s so highly strung that he might snap like an over-taut string plucked by a sharp nail. My eyes rove down from his clenched jaw, slowly taking in the effect my body has on him. The bulge of his crotch is unmissable, and I can’t help staring at it and remembering the way it felt pressed up to the top of my arse. I wonder what it would feel like to let him inside me. How would he take me?
