Because I’m not a subscriber to delusions. Every minute of studio time he allows is a minute I’ll have to pay for later, and the cost is astronomically high. To distract myself from the thought of his hands on my flesh, I throw everything I am into work, taking advantage of my freedom and the sensation of clothing against my skin. The week has been long and grueling as my team and I catch up on neglected projects, but I’m grateful for the busy work. Mostly, I’m grateful to have time away from Miles.
On Friday afternoon, I let my team off early with the expectation of a full weekend ahead. They deserve some time off after the hard work they’ve put in, but I also have an ulterior motive.
A hot bubble bath. A private, hot bubble bath.
With so little privacy, let alone dignity, indulging in long and luxurious baths are a thing of the past, because Miles can walk in at any moment.
And he has.
During my quick showers.
In the morning when I style my hair and apply makeup.
Even when I’m on the toilet.
The man has no respect for personal boundaries, not that I’m surprised. But today, he’s attending meetings outside the tower, so I sink into the suds, surrounded by the ambience of candlelight. As the steam rises, I let out a satisfied sigh and let my head lull, eyes drifting shut.
Heaven.
I’m so relaxed that I fall into a peaceful doze. At some point, a stir in the air brings me back to consciousness, and when I open my eyes, Miles is standing at the edge of the tub.
Just standing there naked, his caged cock at eye level as he watches me bathe.
With a yelp, I lurch upright, sloshing water over the rim, and palm my breasts. “Where’d you come from?” I ask, voice high-pitched.
“Did you forget that I live here?” Even in the dim light, the amused slant of his mouth is more than evident.
“I thought I had the house to myself.”
“I have another meeting in an hour, but I wanted to check on you.” He tilts his head. “If you wanted some alone time in the bath, all you had to do was ask.” His attention stalls on the bubbles. “Though I can’t say I’m not happy I caught you like this.” With a gentle press of his hand on my shoulder, he urges me back into a reclining position.
Immediately, my eyes go to his cock. I’ve never seen his so close before. “Does it hurt?” It’s a question I wish I hadn’t voiced, but now that it’s out there, I’m too curious to pull it back.
“No,” he says with a smirk. “Not to say it isn’t uncomfortable at times.” He strokes the stainless steel rings with this thumb, strumming the chastity cage like a guitar. “You can touch it if you want to.”
I shake my head. “That’s not necessary.”
“We’re not talking about necessity. We’re talking about want.” Crouching into a kneeling position at the side of the tub, he stares at my pressed-together knees. “Spread your legs.”
“Why?”
Stupid question, Novalee.
This is what I’ve been dreading.
“You’re an intelligent woman,” he says. “I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”
This is the cost of making a deal with Miles Sinclair, and as I part my knees, disgust rises in my throat, burning like regurgitated self-loathing. “Just get it over with.”
Candlelight flickers across his blond features, and I detect a faint smile pulling at his wide mouth. His eyes connect with mine as he reaches into the warm bath water. The bubbles swirl, and at the first touch of his fingers on my thigh, I close my eyes.
And I pretend.
Suddenly, those fingers don’t belong to Miles. In my mind, Sebastian’s hand slowly inches up my thigh. His finger traces the line of my groin, teasing the edges of my sex, and a twinge of need radiates from the center of my womanhood.
“I won’t touch you there unless you beg for it,” Miles says, his voice so low and raspy that I almost convince myself Sebastian is the one speaking to me.
Caressing me.
Asking me to beg for his touch.
It’s such a Sebastian thing to do, but no matter how much those fingers tempt me into wanting more, my heart tricking me into spinning a fantasy in my head, reality is much too real. There’s no avoiding whose house I’m in. I lift my lids and find Miles’ contemplative stare on me.
“Who were you dreaming about when you had that wet dream last week?”
“Sebastian,” I answer without hesitation, his name thick in my throat.
“You were thinking of him just now, weren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.”
“Why? You barely know me.”
“It bothers me because you could be my wife soon.” He frowns. “Trust and fidelity are important to me, Novalee. I don’t want you dreaming of anyone else, and when I touch you, I sure as hell don’t want you thinking of someone else.”