Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I can’t help it. My eyes lock straight on her body. She’s not athletically built, not model thin, not tall, and not short. My brain can’t even compute words to describe her other than literal perfection in a red bikini. The color works with her flawless pale skin, and the cut of the bathing suit showcases her lovely breasts, flat stomach, stunning curves, and long legs. Even her feet are perfect from this vantage point.
I don’t have a foot fetish, do I?
Do I?
You’re worried about feet when you just felt up your son’s ex-girlfriend?
I was trying to save her life.
Are you trying to save her life with your eyes right now?
I snap my gaze straight to the concrete. “I apologize. I truly thought you were in distress or that it might be…too late. I immediately went to the worst-case scenario, and then I just reacted.”
She blows out a sigh that makes her shoulders sag inwards. “That’s…yeah. I’m the one who should apologize. Seeing a body at the bottom of the pool wouldn’t just give me a jump scare. I’d freaking shit my pants.”
“That’s…good to know.”
She stares at me for a second, more water droplets sluicing down her body, kissing every inch of her skin and drawing my eyes to all the places they shouldn’t be. Fuck. I’m fully dressed in a pool. Wet jeans cling, and boner problems will be extra obvious. Fuck again. It’s not like the water will hide anything. Probably the exact opposite. Triple fuck. All the fucks. I’m saying fuck in my head more times than I’ve said it out loud or mentally for the past week, and I just spent it with my parents, so that’s really saying something.
She tilts her face, gives a little shrug, and then snort-laughs before walking over to the pool lounger and grabbing a black dress I didn’t even notice in my panic over her drowning.
After she tugs it on and adjusts the halter tie around her neck, she can’t help but give it a little dance twirl. The bottom hem swings out, and the top floral cutouts look gorgeous against her breasts.
Fuckkkkkkk.
“I know this is your pool, but you should probably get out. Going in with clothes on throws off the PH balance or something. I’ve been reading up on caring for pools. I’m fine with a broom and mop, but I’ve never had to take care of anything larger than cleaning a bathtub. I didn’t want to cause a catastrophe on my first week.”
At least she turns, giving me some privacy. I’m thankful for it, considering that no matter how much I’ve talked myself into not having a hard-on and not noticing that this taboo, totally forbidden woman is stunningly gorgeous, it’s happening. My body isn’t obeying my brain. My brain isn’t obeying my brain.
“I’m going to go and make myself something to eat. I’m starved.” She starts for the pool house, and I yank myself over the edge.
Her steps suddenly stop. I freeze as she whips around. I very quickly arrange my lap so that I’m hunched over in a thoughtful statue pose as though I’ve suddenly discovered the meaning of life.
“I…erm…I’ve actually been eating out of your fridge,” Amalphia admits sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Pittsburgh is huge and intimidating. I should have just gone out and gotten some groceries for myself, but I was cleaning in the big house, I mean your house—it’s all your house—and I realized there was a bunch of food in the fridge that was perishable. You did say you’d be gone for a while, and I didn’t want the food to spoil. They were mostly organic, so no doubt expensive, and when they’re not full of preservatives, they don’t last all that long past the dates on the packages. Or so says the internet. I looked it up.” She flicks her eyes up to the sky as if asking the sun for forgiveness. “Anyway, I’m not making excuses for why I ate pretty much the entire contents of your fridge.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Thank you. It would have spoiled.”
She sighs in relief, grabs a handful of her wet curls, and wrings them straight out onto the pavement. It’s so hot that the splashes of water evaporate almost instantly.
“I can make us something if you’d like. There isn’t much left, but I can work some magic while you get changed.”
I lift my head but not my chest, cursing the pounding in my heart, and…erm…lower. This doesn’t happen to me. I have never once had a hard-on for an employee. Or anyone younger than me by more than a year or two. At this rate, I feel like dick-punching myself as a lesson to not be a creep. Maybe my cock doesn’t understand the meaning of forbidden. Quite possibly, I need to get my hormones checked. Is that even a thing for men? Testosterone levels? Or body chemicals. That’s probably legit.