Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
I force myself to move up the back stairs, two at a time, straight to my private suite. As I walk across the quiet bedroom, I strip and drop all my clothes in the wooden hamper. I catch my own reflection in the mirror and snort at the wild-eyed bastard staring back at me. Sierra’s still in my head, turning every damn thought molten. There’s no use trying to look like a man in control.
All that shit flew right out the window the second I laid eyes on my gorgeous new housekeeper.
I turn the shower on full blast, and holy shit, it’s freezing. I step in anyway. I want punishment—no, I need it. The water is pure ice, slamming against my overheated skin, and for a second, I just stand there letting it hammer me so hard my teeth actually rattle.
It doesn’t help. My mind is filled with Sierra. Every fucking curve of her, every soft little breath, those wild curls I want to bury my face in. Her scent is still in my head. Sweet. Floral, but not fancy. Just her.
“You’re a goddamn mess,” I mutter, icy spray soaking my hair, running down my neck, over my chest. It’s going to be a long fucking night.
I’m still wide awake at two in the morning, staring at the ceiling, dick throbbing, and entire body wired. I want to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see Sierra. It’s the worst kind of torture. I roll over, punch my pillow, stare at the moonlit slice on the wall, and curse my inability to fight this shit.
All I can think about is her. Her sweet smile. The way her curls bounced when she shook her head, lips parting like she was about to say something smart or maybe just tell me I’m an idiot. Honestly? I’d take either one if it meant hearing her talk to me again.
If I don’t do something about my rock-hard cock, I’ll never get any sleep. I drag my hand down my chest, over my abs, and straight to my erection. I close my fist around it, not even bothering to resist anymore, and stroke slowly, picturing her on her knees in front of me, big brown eyes blown wide, lips parted, breath coming fast. Fuck. I squeeze harder, faster, thinking about how those curves would feel in my lap, her perfect ass grinding down as she rode me. I imagine her moaning, nails digging into my skin, squeezing me so tight I’d lose my fucking mind.
I come with a grunt, hot and messy, and for a second, it almost helps. But even as I clean up, I know it’s hopeless. The need isn’t going away. If anything, it’s worse. I want her more now than I did before.
Great.
At some point in the middle of the night, I come to the realization that the only way I’m going to survive what I’m feeling for my new employee is avoidance. And sticky notes. It isn’t a great plan, but right now, it’s all I’ve got.
CHAPTER THREE
SIERRA
I wake up to a sunbeam in my face and a blanket that smells like it’s been washed in actual sunshine. Seriously, is this what rich people’s sheets feel like? My hands are tucked under my chin, cocooned in the thick quilt, and for a solid minute, I just lie there listening to the weird new silence. No traffic, no upstairs neighbor playing bad techno, not even the sound of an ancient air conditioner trying to keep up with the Texas heat. Just the faint creak of the old house settling and, if I strain, a rooster in the far distance announcing his tragic inability to keep time.
For a second, I forget where I am. Then the sight of the pale yellow walls and the clean, lemony smell brings it all back. Right. I’m on a ranch, in the middle of nowhere, and today is the first full day of my new “career” as a live-in housekeeper.
I sit up and rub my eyes. The clock on the nightstand says five-fifty-seven. I don’t know if there’s a formal ranch schedule, but I figure ass-crack-of-dawn early is probably expected. I run my hands through my hair and try to convince the curls to cooperate, but after a few seconds of gentle negotiation, they rebel and I give up. I pull on jeans, a plain white tee, and a zip-up sweatshirt since my new employer likes to keep his house just a few degrees above freezing. Since I don’t really have anyone to impress, I’m going for comfort. I check my reflection in the mirror one more time, but it’s pointless. My hair is doing its thing. My eyes are puffy, and my mouth is set in that determined line that makes me look like I’ve got my shit together, which is basically the biggest lie of the century. Whatever. This is fine. Not like I’m here to seduce anyone, least of all my boss.