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“I caught her stealing last night.”
At this, she gives me a glare and purses her lips. “Boy, you better not be sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’. Is she here against her will?”
Ignoring her question, I say, “Go to New Orleans. See your family before the cruise. I’ll have my assistant book your ticket.”
Staring at me long enough that I begin to squirm, she gives me a smile that sends a very real shiver down my spine.
“All right.” She removes her apron.
I clutch the fork tightly in my hand. “What do you see, Sue?”
“I don’t see nothin’.” She goes to the chair where her things are and collects them. Then she laughs again. “I don’t see nothin’ at all.”
* * *
After my cook leaves me with that unsettling feeling rolling in the pit of my stomach, I decide it’s time for me to go as well.
But before I do, I put my ear up to Andie’s door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. When I hear nothing, I place my hand on the knob, turn, and push.
Andie is still sleeping, though from the looks of it, she did battle with the covers. A night as restless as mine.
Quietly as I can, I walk to the side of the bed. I peer down at her, my body instantly reacting to her insane sexuality. She’s a nymph tucked in a nest of white fluffy blankets.
Long blond lashes rest over the dewy skin of her cheeks, her lips plump and pink beneath her little nose. Those twin lines I’ve seen before form a crease between her perfect brows, as if she’s still doing battle, fighting to remain asleep.
I want to trace her features with my fingertip, smoothing those lines and drawing it down over her face, chin, throat, to the neck of the torn spaghetti strap shirt that clings to her large breasts, yet exposes most of her midriff.
Fuck me, I want to lick her tummy. Want to swirl my tongue around her belly button before I move even lower. I want to breathe in the scent of every part of her— her chest, her legs, and every space in between.
Coming in here to let her know I’m going to work was a huge mistake, I realize as my hand hovers above her. Then, because I can’t help myself, I give in to the need to trail my fingertip over the exposed skin of her belly, and it’s like touching silk. Smooth. Creamy. Sinful.
I draw an G on her, just below her ribcage, imagining I’m doing it with my cum. A mark I hope she feels to the marrow of her bones.
Suddenly, her breathing pattern changes and I shift my attention back to her face. Blue eyes stare back at me.
Her lips part, but she says nothing. Does nothing. Like a deer caught in the headlights.
With my eyes locked on hers, I move my finger slowly up her body, catching the bottom of her shirt as I go. I drag it upward, pausing only slightly when I feel the start of the swell of her breast.
Still, she doesn’t move.
My heart hammering in my chest, I go farther up, over her right side first, before doing the same to her left. Only now do I glance at the loveliness I’ve just exposed. And it’s all mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper as I caress the side of her tit with the back of my hand.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” Her pupils dilate at the same time as her pink nipples perk up.
Before I can respond, my fucking cell phone rings. I tug it out of my pocket to find a message from my right-hand man and The Red’s vice president.
Patrick: You’re late.
I clench my jaw. “There isn’t enough time for everything I want to do to you.” Standing, I adjust my tie. “All of the staff is off for the week, so you’ll be expected to take on any extra chores they’d be taking care of. That includes cooking.”
“I’m not a very good cook,” she sits up quickly and tugs her shirt down to cover herself, which incites a frown from me.
“And I’m not picky.” I walk to the door. “Sue keeps the pantry and fridge stocked well, but if you need anything else, call the main kitchen. They can bring up whatever you want.”
“Okay.”
