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When I slide into bed, the expensive cotton sheets glide over my skin like melting butter, caressing every bend and curve, and as my body sinks into the down mattress topper, the pillow hugging the back of my neck, I immediately feel like a twit for not showering. But whatever.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
My hand brushes over the bed and stops on his side, the place he’ll be sleeping tonight, and I scrunch the sheets into my palm with a sigh. What the hell am I going to do? Especially if he sleeps in his underwear…or nothing at all…
I inhale sharply at the imagery.
Too close.
He’ll be too close. Too tempting.
Which could be what he’s after with this whole homecoming visit—to ensnare me with his voodoo. To scramble my brain with his glorious dick. To reprogram me like they did the butlers.
Sure, he says he knows the article is happening anyway, but part of him also has to know it’s not too late for me to ask Claudia to pull it.
I snort, thinking how that would go. Hey, Claudia. Jake’s dick convinced me to not run the story to spare his family’s reputation. Is that cool?
Ugh.
Well, Operation Voodoo or not, I need to hold my ground and keep a clear head.
My eyes zero in on some decorative pillows on a chaise lounge against the wall, so I get out of bed and collect them. Arrange them along the center of the bed.
“There,” I whisper smugly at my handiwork.
Nothing a little pillow wall can’t fix.
I stayup and read on my side of the pillow wall for at least an hour, skimming over sentences and having to reread because my mind keeps drifting back to reality. Jake hasn’t returned. Part of me wants to go looking for him, part of me doesn’t. When the clock on the bedside table hits nine-thirty, I close my book and turn off the lamp, but the light I left on in the bathroom illuminates enough of the room that he’ll be able to see.
I toss and turn for a while, knowing it’s going to be a long night with no sleep. As soon as he gets his chiseled ass in here and goes to bed, I’m going to attempt sneaking out.
But he has to get to the sleeping part first.
What feels like ages later the door finally creaks opens and my eyelids pinch shut like a kid hoping to fool a parent.
His feet pause, probably taking in my architectural masterpiece on the bed, and then he quietly shuts the door behind him…not what he was expecting, I’m sure. As well as me being asleep so soon.
Anxiety flitters in my chest as I await his reaction, but he doesn’t say anything, just heads toward the bathroom. Before he gets to the door, I wager a peek and see said-chiseled ass covered in a towel. Damp hair. He must have taken a shower in the hall bath.
He doesn’t go into our bathroom, only flicks the light off and heads to his suitcase. His towel falls, and I screw my eyes shut again for fear of getting another glimpse of his dick.
I’ve already seen it once today. if I see it again, my metaphorical—and literal—walls might crumble.
The next thing I hear…or don’t hear, rather, unnerves me. Footsteps heading this way. No rummaging for clothes or a snap of a waistband.
OhGod.
He’s sleeping naked.
Of course. Of course, he is. We’ll be ending the day exactly like we started it—in a Bedroom with his damp naked body on display.
Lord help me. I’ll need another dose of strength for this.
In true male form,Jake is out in minutes. Never mind the impending shitstorm for him and his family. Or that there’s a ’super-hot’ girl on the other side of this pillow wall.
To be fair, he did drink a lot.
I slip out of bed, grateful more strength wasn’t needed after all, and creep to the door, the hardwood cold and rough beneath my bare feet. When I open it, I’m reminded of how loud things are in the middle of the night when you’re trying to be quiet. Thankfully, the noise of the door creaking open doesn’t disturb him, so I ease it shut behind me and look both ways down the hall.
