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By six o’clock, I’m sore and tired from a hard day’s work. I wouldn’t normally try to tackle five bathrooms in a row, but all week I’ve thrown myself into my work with an exhausting vigor.
I tell myself it’s because Dimitri is way overpaying me, but if I’m being honest, my newfound dedication has a lot more to do with avoiding my gorgeous new boss who has a habit of running around shirtless.
Despite his generosity — or maybe because of it — I can’t allow things to get personal with Dimitri. I’m here to collect a paycheck and earn a glowing reference. That’s all.
Fantasizing about a certain tall, muscular recluse is absolutely off-limits. It’s easier said than done, considering I haven’t gotten any action in months, which is why I’ve tried to arrange my schedule so Dimitri and I rarely cross paths.
The house is unnervingly quiet when I finally come downstairs to eat some leftovers. The lights are off in the main areas, and the sun has already set.
I remember Dimitri mentioning that he had to return to Denver for some important meetings on Monday, and I realize that for the first time since I moved in, I have the house all to myself.
Muscles aching, I flip on a light in the kitchen and pour myself a giant glass of wine. I slide down the hallway Risky Business–style, opening the hall closet where the house’s sound system is installed. It’s so high tech that I can choose which rooms of the house I want to play my music in, and I carefully adjust the volume in my room and bathroom and put on some relaxing tunes.
Running up the stairs in my sock feet, I bound into my room and twirl around with my wine. I turn on the water for a bath and strip out of my sweaty work clothes. I haven’t had a chance to try out the luxurious soaking tub in my bathroom, and just the thought of sliding into the hot water sounds like absolute heaven.
Once the steaming water is deep enough, I sink into the tub with a sigh. It’s one of those modern cast-iron tubs, and the shape of it seems to cradle my back as the hot water loosens my overworked muscles.
Sipping my wine like a queen, I congratulate myself on taking the job with Dimitri. I’m getting paid a lot of money to do work I’d normally earn minimum wage for while living in a gorgeous chalet in the mountains.
I lay my head back against the cool tub, closing my eyes as the water sluices over me. Damn. The only thing that would make this better is if I had my book. I groan when I remember that I packed it away in a box that I stuck in Dimitri’s storage room.
Determined to make my evening of relaxation perfect, I set down my wine and climb out of the tub, wrapping a towel around my middle without bothering to dry off properly.
I skitter downstairs as quickly as I can, trying not to leave too many water droplets behind me as I hurry down to the basement. The storage room is practically empty, apart from the four cardboard boxes of mine stacked near the door. I find my book in the second one I check and reshuffle the boxes into the same neat stack.
I slip out of the room and am about to head back up to my bath when the arched door to the wine cellar catches my eye. I’ve never been in a home that had its very own wine cellar before, and I haven’t had a moment alone to explore down here.
Curious, I crack the door to the wine cellar and flip on the light, staring around in awe. The room is nearly as big as my suite upstairs — brick walls, polished concrete floor, and rows upon rows of wine racks carved from knotty pine. Lights beneath each shelf illuminate the bottles, and I run my fingers reverently along the labels — some of them yellow and faded with age.
Several bottles are fifty years old or more, and those are just the labels I read. As someone who buys bargain zin from Trader Joe’s, I can’t imagine what a fifty-year-old Bordeaux would taste like.
Resisting the urge to pilfer one of Dimitri’s fancy wines for my night of relaxation, I flip off the light with a wistful sigh and turn to close the door. I pivot quickly and take a step — colliding with a hard muscular chest.
A loud yelp rips out of me as I drop my book, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. I lunge to catch the book, but then my foot slides — slipping in the little trail of water I’ve left on the smooth concrete floor.
I throw out my arms to regain my balance and feel a soft tug around my middle. Cold air laps at my skin, and I stumble into Dimitri’s warm, solid chest. He takes a step back, and we both go down — the floor rushing up to meet us.
I land splayed across Dimitri, and when I look down, horror surges through me. My bare breasts are smashed against Dimitri’s torso, and my hands are splayed on his chest. His very hard, very naked chest.
I glance behind me to see my towel dangling from where it caught in the cellar door, and an excruciating flush heats my body.
Fuck!
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! I’m straddling my boss after he caught me snooping in his wine cellar, and I’m naked.
Double fuck!
Dimitri lifts his head to stare at me, blinking his amber eyes in surprise. He’s not wearing a stitch of clothing either, apart from a thin pair of gym shorts. Every inch of me is squashed against him, and I think I feel . . .
“I’m sorry!” I yelp, pushing myself off Dimitri before remembering that he can see everything.
Feeling ridiculous, I flatten myself against him once again, but that only makes it worse. Dimitri’s muscular leg is now wedged between my thighs, the top of his quad pressing into my hot, wet center.
“I’m so sorry!” I repeat, scrambling off him and covering my bare breasts with my arms. My face feels as though it’s on fire, and it’s all I can do to cover my pussy as I back toward the cellar door. “I thought you were in Denver! I just came down to get something out of storage. I took a peek at the wine cellar and —”
I turn and tug at my towel to dislodge it from the cellar door, well aware that I’m putting my ass on display. I guess that’s better than my pussy. The stupid towel doesn’t come loose on the first try, and I have to crack open the door and bend down to grab it.
My hands are shaking as I wrap it forcefully around my body, tears stinging my eyes. This is so fucking embarrassing. Dimitri just caught me snooping, and then I gave him a peep show.
