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I have to remind myself that those were just drunken thoughts, nothing more. Because even if Ididwant to kiss her, she’s still my assistant.
And even if she wasn't my assistant, she’s too good for me. She deserves someone who is lightyears better than me.
I swallow down the dry lump in my throat while my eyes continue mapping every inch of Roxanne’s sleeping body. I’ve never had the luxury of just staring at her for as long as I want. I’ve never wanted to stare at another person like I do with her. It’s creepy and weird, I know.
But she’s just so fucking pretty.
A fuzzy blanket is bunched together in her lap, not doing much to cover her body. Her smooth legs dangle over the end of the small couch, barely the size of a dog bed.
Fuck me.Even her bare feet are perfect, and I’mnota feet guy.
Of course, she would give me the bigger couch and she would sleep on that pathetic excuse for a sofa. I could have slept on the floor and would have never known the difference. Once again, this just proves how much of a saint she is.
She chose to sleep out here—near me, instead of in her bed. For reasons I will never understand, she wanted to make sure that I was okay. She wanted to take care of me. And fuck, if that doesn't thaw out a piece of my cold heart.
I bring my palm to my heart, rubbing the itch beneath my bones as I think about what she did for me.
One second, I’m in my feelings about Roxanne giving a shit about me and the next, I’m almost shitting my pants.
“Holy shit!” I curse silently, standing from the couch when a little head pops up and I’m met with two eerie eyes giving me a death glare.
A small, black cat is curled up in Roxanne’s lap, disguised by the dark blanket. The thing is glaring at me like it's about to pounce if I make a move.
Talk about a jump scare. I had no idea that little shit was there until it popped its head up.
“Christ,” I exhale, shaking my head as my heart rate starts to slow. I break eye contact with her bodyguard and take a seat back on the couch. The second my eyes are back on Roxanne, I completely forget about her asshole of a cat.
Thank God I’m wearing jeans instead of a thin pair of slacks because the sight of her nipples poking through the thin tank top she’s wearing has my morning wood growing to a full mast behind my zipper.
The skimpy, white shirt does nothing to hide the swells of her breasts, rising and falling with her lazy breaths. The sunlight beaming in through the window hits her perfectly, radiating off her skin in glowing beams.
She looks so…soft. So fucking soft and sweet and tempting. My fingers itch to know if her skin feels as smooth as it looks. My mouth waters to know if she tastes as sweet as I’ve imagined.
God, I need to pull myself together.
But then, my eyes trail up to her face, and I’m rendered speechless. I don’t think I could pull my eyes away from her, even if she caught me blatantly staring.
Her jet-black hair is pulled up in a messy bun at the top of her head, but it doesn't really look messy to me because every hair on her head is perfect in my eyes. A few strands are loose, falling like waves around her face.
Dark lashes rest against her pretty, freckled cheeks. Her full lips look swollen from sleep and pinker than when she wears makeup.Christ…Those lips may be the death of me if I ever got a taste.
I’m dying to know what her mouth would feel like against mine. And I never think about mushy things like that when I meet a new girl. I never ponder what another woman's lips would taste like. I’m only concerned about getting off and neverseeing them again.
My stomach drops at the thought of never seeing Roxanne again. What she does to me…The way she makes me feel...I don’t know how to explain it or even put it into words.
In the short time I’ve known Roxanne, it feels like there’s this invisible string tugging us closer day by day. She just…Seems to get me somehow. Gets under my skin and inside my bones.
She didn’t get scared when I had my outburst in the car, and she didn't leave me alone when I was belligerently drunk. That night in the car when I was screaming at her to get out, her eyes flashed with understanding. She doesn't know about my past or my regrets, but she understands trauma and how to live with it. She doesn't expect me to put on an act like everyone else does. I can be my true, ugly self, and she’ll still be here.
Meowww.
The asshole cat pulls me from my thoughts, once again.
A screechy purr comes from the furball as if to say,“Stop staring at my mom, you fucking freak.”
If this cat could talk, it would for sure be cussing me out. Calling me all of the expletives in the book.
I chuckle at the same time Roxanne stirs. She brings a hand to her eyes, rubbing the sleep away.
