Chapter 54 – Pleasing the Boss

I sit up suddenly, my eyes frantically surveying the strange room as the later details of the night come to me in pieces. I’d been tired and intoxicated. Hadrian had said he had someplace I could stay. Then…had he carried me into bed?

I spot my dress draped over an armchair in the corner. I definitely don’t remember getting undressed, but I am very much naked under these satin sheets. As for the rest of the room—it looks quite lived in for a guest apartment, which was what I had assumed Hadrian had meant when he said he had someplace. There is a stack of books with a bookmark sticking out of one on the nightstand along with a case for earbuds and a dock for charging a phone. I pull open the drawer and find more personal items—an iPad, a legal pad, Advil and allergy medicine as well as a bottle of lube.

And now that I’m paying attention…is that the sound of a shower running?

wr*pping the sheet around me, I climb out of bed and venture toward the bathroom. It’s an open concept so there isn’t a door before I’m standing in front of a large walk-in shower with steamed glass.

Not too steamy to recognize the chiseled figure on the other side who has one hand resting on the tile wall, the other hand jerking up and down so quickly that, even though his back is to me, I know exactly what he’s doing.

I really should turn right around and pretend I never saw this.

But I can’t move. At first, I’m too stunned. Then, as if sensing me, he turns his body, and now I can’t move because his eyes have me pinned in place as he continues to stroke the length of his magnificent c**k.

And wow.

When I say magnificent, I mean magnificent. I swear I’ve never seen him look so much like the royalty he is until this very moment, with his scepter in his hand, and him in his naked glory.

I’m still admiring with wide eyes when the water turns off, and the very w*t—still very aroused—man walks out of the shower and grabs a towel for his hair. “Morning, honeybee. See something you like?”

I blink.

Then I get my shit together and force myself to look away. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. I shouldn’t be…I just didn’t…I mean…”

I’m flustered, and despite not facing him, I can tell he’s amused. “I really don’t mind. Though I liked it better when you were actually looking.”

I turn back to respond on instinct, forgetting I’ll see what I’ll see, or assuming perhaps that he’d throw a towel around him like a normal person. But nope. There he is, casually drying his hair while his c**k stands at full salute.

I immediately turn away again. “Could you do something about that?”

“I was doing something about it. Then I realized you were here, and I thought it might be rude to continue without inviting you to join.”

Why does an invitation like that make my knees weak and my insides molten lava?

“I can’t do that.” Though, admittedly, I’m beginning to forget what my reasons are.

“Why not? I can start the shower again and climb in with you. The water’s probably still hot.”

“No. Showering with you would be a bad, bad, bad idea.” My body feels differently, but for the moment, my head is in charge. I glance back to see if he’s covered himself yet, and it’s another big nope. “And I can’t look at you with…” I refuse to say c**k. “That out in the open. So could you put it away so I can talk to you?”

If he puts it away, I might even remember what it is I need to say.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it, Brystin.”

“I haven’t.” It’s taking all my concentration to keep from peeking again so I’m not at my best in the wording department. “I mean…yes, I’ve seen it. I haven’t seen”—I wave my arm up and down in his general direction—“the full package.”

“Pretty sure I had the full package down your throat just last night.”

Oh God.

I shiver with the reminder and my th**hs suddenly feel sticky. “The full you, I mean. Naked. With nothing on.”

He chuckles, and then I hear his feet padding nearer until his breath is on my ear and the smell of his shampoo is inches from my nose. “I find you distracting when you’re naked too. Even when you’re trying to hide under my sheet.”

I lift my head up to meet his eyes, and I swear, if he made one more move toward me, no matter how small, the sheet would drop, and I’d have my legs wr*pped around his perfectly toned waist before I could remember my husband’s first name.

Fortunately—I think—Hadrian doesn’t make another move. “Let me put on some pants.”

He pads past me into a huge walk-in closet, and yes, I watch his naked ass walk away. Damn. How is his backside just as glorious as his front?

“I know you’re watching.” He peers over his shoulder after he’s spoken to confirm it’s true.

My face gets so hot, I’m sure it looks sunburned.

At least his backside is a smidge less tempting, and I’m able to maintain eye contact as he pulls on a pair of dark jeans.

Without underwear.

God help me now.

“Better?” he asks as he approaches me again.

Honestly…not really. He’s still shirtless and dripping, and I’ve never so desperately wanted to l**k droplets off of someone’s skin.

But the lust fog must have cleared somewhat because I all of a sudden remember the big f**king red flag reason I bolted out of his bed. “This is your apartment?”

“Uh…yes. Is there a problem?”

“When you said you had a place I could stay, I assumed you meant an extra place. Like a guest place. I didn’t think you meant the apartment that you live in.” I most certainly didn’t think he meant he’d take me to his very own bed, though that’s only problematic emotionally, and only for me.

He leans his arm against the doorframe of the closet. “Not to repeat myself, but is there a problem?”

I throw my head back, wanting to scream, as much from sexual frustration as anything else, but it’s definitely all frustration. “I’m a married woman, Hadrian. And you’re an A-list celebrity. I know for a fact that paparazzi camp outside your building. I can’t be seen coming out of your apartment at this time of the morning, looking hungover, and”—f**k—“wearing last night’s dress.”

How am I just realizing that last bit? It gets worse the more I think about it.

“I did offer the shower,” Hadrian says, unfazed.

I’m so frustrated, I growl. Literally growl.

Then, gathering the sheet in my arms so I don’t trip, I stomp back to the bedroom, as if there will magically be answers for alternate clothing when I get there. “What time is it?”

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