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Chapter Eight

Jemma

To my right I watch snow drift by. In the shower. Actually, the entire wall is glass and gives a breathtaking view of Paris.

From the open door of the bathroom to my left I spy a set of clothes spread out on the bed for me as I step out of the shower. It’s all so surreal.

The location, the company. This hotel suite.

It’s the middle of winter in freaking Paris. And I’m here. Holy crap! Part of me wants to squeal with glee at ticking something off my wish list. But I keep it cool and take the towel Daemon hands me. Or at least I try.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me around. Warmth engulfs me when he wraps one fluffy towel around my shoulders so large it hangs past my knees while taking another to dry my hair.

He’s in no hurry it seems. He makes sure to soak up the extra water from each section and then sets to work on my body just as methodically. I moan a little in appreciation. It’s like drying with clouds.

While I might come from money my parents never saw the need to go all out and spend on ‘frivolous’ things like decadent towels and trips abroad. And now that I’m on my own, well, let’s just say I can’t exactly eat plane tickets or towels.

Daemon kneels in front of me, taking a foot to rest on his knee. With more gentleness than I expect he dries my leg, foot and each toe.

I take him in as he silently cares for me. He’s so handsome. Not in the polished, I’m a billionaire and I want you to know it way. There’s not a flaunting, flamboyant bone in his body. Not Daemon. He’s more the rough around the edges, quiet type who’d rather show by action than talk about it, I’m quickly learning.

He has a rugged build and stands a couple of inches taller than the other two. I’ve only known him as a professor who is distant, direct and always in teacher mode. Except for the few times our gazes locked over the podium. In those stolen moments my imagination always took over.

He moves me to the bedroom featuring a huge four-poster bed pushed up against a window showcasing the Eiffel tower. Stunning.

Daemon doesn’t rush me. Together we stand there for long minutes taking it in. Me in a towel and him in the same pair of slacks from yesterday.

He wraps his arms around me and I settle my back against his chest, my head on his shoulder.

“You’ll find everything you need on the bed or in the closet. I hope you don’t mind, I picked out something I thought you might like.” He nods toward the bed. “If you don’t like it, check the closet. There’s more for you.”

I turn in his arms and flutter my lashes open. This all feels like a dream. One I hope I never wake from. “I’m sure what you picked is fine.” His presence is comforting and I realize for the first time in a while I’m not worrying over something.

He places a kiss on my forehead and I realize there’s something different about him too. The hard edginess to his eyes is gone and, dear God. I think he actually looks happy. The scowl I’ve forever associated with him is gone.

“I’m going to shower while you get ready. Then we’ll eat. Come in if you need anything. There’s makeup, lip gloss...”

He trails off with a shrug and I can tell he’s nervous. Daemon Preston is nervous to be alone with me.

I smile and I guess he sees my confusion. He rubs at the pinch between my brows. “We called ahead. Had a personal shopper drop off items for you.”

Well, at least that answers one of my curiosities.

He taps my nose and then turns, leaving me alone.

I make quick work of pulling on the panty and bra set the color of fresh snow. Next the pair of jeans with fashionably placed rips. Sweet Jesus...how did I know they would fit like a glove? I’m quickly learning these men never do anything halfway.

The white sweater slides on just as easily. Cashmere. I truly am in heaven.

A pair of knee-high boots are leaning against the bed and I pull those on next. By the time I get to my hair and makeup Daemon is already out of the shower and pulling on a pair of black slacks.

I watch shamelessly through the mirror. It gives me a perfect view of every inch of his body rippling and bunching as he dresses.

His dark eyes find mine in the mirror. “You keep looking at me like that and I'll forget about taking you sightseeing, breakfast...everything. And show you other things instead.”

I blush. Yep! After all he’s seen and tasted of me I still blush.

I stare at him for a moment weighing my options. He prowls across the room shirt hanging open, all those abs on display for me to drool over.


Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic