follow behind her, my hands behind my back to control the trembling. It’s the opposite of the trembling from earlier. Now that she’s here in my space, I want her so fiercely that my body is taking over.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, standing in front of a mixed media piece of art that hangs in one of the hallways. “This isn’t the bachelor pad I expected…it’s more,” she says. It’s more now that she’s in it.
“I’m glad you approve. Something to drink? The kitchen is down here,” I point at the end of the hallway. The need to touch her wins out and I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her back against my chest. She sighs a contented sound and my pulse skitters. I know she feels my hard cock against her. There is no hiding it now.
“First, a drink,” she says, spinning to face me. “Then, a tour of your bedroom.” She slips her hands under my shirt and runs them up my chest. “I want to see all of this again.”
I flex my abs and my pecs. It’s an automatic reaction to touch I can’t control unless I’m thinking about it. She grins and squeezes my muscles. Then she bites her fucking lip. I drag her into the kitchen and show her where the refrigerator is. She stands in front of the open door for longer than is normal, crossing one ankle over the other.
“Do you cook?” she finally asks. I tell her I do and she seems even more shocked at that fact than anything else. That says a lot because I told her my official job description, not Dr. Google’s definition. Finally, she decides on a bottle of water and turns on me, eyes narrowed. “What else can you do?”
I pull my shirt off. It distracts her. Just what I was going for. “I can do many things, Win. You want me to show you a few?” My dick strains against my jeans. Maybe confused, because we are at home, but excited nonetheless. She stays quiet, just studying me. I’m reminded of how I study her when she doesn’t know I’m looking. Except, of course, Windsor wouldn’t be sneaky or vindictive about anything. It’s all out in the open for me to see. Her honest eyes telling me all I need to know.
“One word,” I say, voice low.
“Bedroom,” she mutters.
I grab one of her hands and pull her onto my back piggyback style. I run down the corridor that leads to the master suite and her sweet laughter fills the space, echoing off the cold walls. I dive into my king sized bed and trap her beneath me. Her hair fans out, spreading all around her. I kiss her mouth. I kiss her forehead. I kiss her nose. I kiss her neck. I kiss her mouth again. Because I can’t help it. My mouth wants to be on her.
“Look at me,” she whispers. I open my eyes. Blue eyes shine back at me. “Thank you for showing me this. It means a lot to me.” Her wet lips crash into mine, but this time I keep my eyes open because she wants me to look at her. A fine sight it is, too.
She breaks free from the kiss, breathing hard and staring at me. She squirms her way up to a sitting position. I roll off her to let her up. Walking away from my bed, Windsor looks around my room curiously. It’s not until she turns around do I know she’s fucking taking off her clothes. Her shirt is completely unbuttoned.
“I know you want to take things slow. I can respect that even if I don’t want to participate in the same restraint.” She smiles, then lets her shirt float to the ground. She reaches behind her back to unzip the skirt and steps out of it, exposing a blue lacy thong that matches the bra I saw earlier. Her body is tight and beautiful, kissable, more than fuckable. “You do owe me, though,” she says, more confidently than I thought her capable of. All I can do is nod my head up and down like some sort of Neanderthal. I’m focused on the panties—that match my sheets, that match her eyes.
I swallow and shake off the fucking trance that is Windsor Forbes. I have a damned job to do. And by the looks of her, I better do it well or I’m in fucking trouble. She drags one finger over a chaise