She better damn well not have, or he’d . . . do nothing. Not his problem.
Could be if you made her yours. You could order her to eat. Better yet, order her to her knees next to you and feed her yourself. You could have her in your apartment, following your rules, in your bed each night, where you’d make certain she got enough rest.
After fucking her half the night, of course.
But then she could sleep half the day since she damn well wouldn’t be working as a cleaner. Or working at all. She could be totally devoted to him. His needs. His wants.
He wondered what that would be like. To have this woman’s total attention. Unless he was misjudging her, she’d no doubt make a loyal, faithful companion.
Companion? She wasn’t a dog. No, certainly not. She’d be a wife.
Okay, he needed to stop. He didn’t even know if there was trouble in paradise with the loser boyfriend. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was a loser.
But then, considering he allowed his girlfriend to clean offices half the night after working all day, James didn’t think he could be much of a man. He knew she worked as a receptionist in a plumbing business during the day because he’d snooped through the information she’d given to human resources. He didn’t like that she was working such long hours, especially as it was obviously taking a toll. Any man worth his salt would take on three or four jobs before he allowed his woman to work herself so hard.
So, yeah, maybe taking her from this loser was what he deserved. “Either I’m slipping, or you’re becoming more observant.” He hoped it was the second. While it was a little fun to sneak up on her, he didn’t like the idea of someone else being able to do the same thing. Someone who did not have good intentions.
Good intentions? Do you really have good intentions?
“I think I’ve just come to expect you’ll turn up at some point. I’m beginning to think you’re spying on me.”
It was close to the truth. He smiled.
She gazed at him suspiciously.
“What is it?”
“You’re smiling. You never smile.”
“I smile.”
“Not like this. When you smile, babies cry. This smile. This smile looks like you’re amused. Why are you amused? Is there something on my face?”
She rubbed at her clear, creamy skin. He frowned at the idea he would be so crass as to laugh at her for having something on her face. What kind of man did she take him for?
“Of course, there’s nothing on your face. You look perfect, as always.”
“Perfect? Me?” She gaped at him. Then looked down at herself. “I’m a mess. I had to rush over from my other job, because my boss’s son landed all this paperwork on me at the last minute, and I was scrambling to get it done. I haven’t checked my hair, I haven’t eaten dinner. But even on a good day I’d hardly be considered perfect.”
He didn’t agree. But he zeroed in on something she’d said.
“You didn’t eat dinner?” He ran his gaze over her, noting with satisfaction and a little pride how she stood straighter under his perusal. She had backbone. Even if she was looking a bit wan at the moment, nothing would hold her down for long. “You’re not on some diet to lose weight, are you?”
“I’m pretty certain that’s none of your business.”
“It is if someone I employ is about to faint from hunger.”
“Your concern is . . . touching.” She sounded skeptical. “But I’m fine. One skipped meal won’t hurt me.”
“If you were mine you’d be in a whole world of trouble right now.” Her eyes flared open then quickly dropped to the floor.
Hmm, that was interesting.
“I’m surprised your boyfriend allows such a thing.” He’d said it deliberately, of course. And sure enough, her head shot up, her face filled with self-righteous anger.
“Allow? He doesn’t allow or disallow anything.” Something crossed her face, almost too quickly for him to see it. But he had a feeling she was lying. Was her boyfriend a Dom? Or was James reading too much into her reactions?
“And I’m not on a diet, anyway. Not that it has anything to do with you.” She gave him an exasperated look. “If I faint then that’s my business, not yours.”