“I like them. Leave those on too.”
Oddly, Natasha might have been bashful about blatantly stripping in front of the man, but there was no need. Alex wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he casually strolled to the sofa and rearranged a pillow before pulling a gray faux fur throw from a large drawer in the coffee table.
Standing there, she watched as he removed his shoes, setting them aside. But his clothes stayed on, making her wonder if she’d be peeling them from his skin.
Maybe he wants me to start with a lap dance. Mulling it over, she knew her moves weren’t horrible, but dancing wasn’t exactly her forte.
But he said this would be different. If he’s never had a lap dance before, he’d be the only guy on the planet who hasn’t.
Still in his shirt and slacks, he lay down on the couch. She cocked her head as he turned on his side, facing the cushioned back.
“You ready?” he asked.
With a drawn-out breath, Natasha said, “Maybe,” and made her way over.
There she stood, in front of a guy turned away from her as if about to take a nap. Perplexed, she hadn’t a clue where this was going.
“What . . . do you want me to do?”
“Dim,” he said, confusing the hell out of her until the lights began darkening. “Lie down.”
The deep grumble sent a shiver down her spine, right to her tingling lady parts. Like a festive holiday, it had been a while since her shrubby snatch lit up like a Christmas tree, but tonight it sent throb after heated throb to her eager core. And just like the once-a-year holiday, the anticipation was equally as thrilling.
The sofa was nicely spacious, but not oversized. With the way he filled it, even resting on his side, she could only squeeze on by spooning him. Pressing herself against his back gave her a good feel of every muscle that could have been carved of pure marble.
“Like this,” Natasha whispered, barely able to get the words out at all.
“That’s fine. Comfy?” he asked.
“Um . . .” Stealing a cheap thrill, she squeezed her body in a little closer, wrapping herself in his warmth and a whiff of the lightest cologne on his neck. Inhaling a deep, lingering breath, her lips released a raspy yes.
“Can you see the clock from here?”
Her eyes searched the room in the dim light, finding the small vintage clock resting on the mantel. Only then did she noticed the dazzling flames of the fire warming the room.
“It’s ten fifteen.”
“With the time since you agreed, I’ll give you fifteen minutes. You can leave at midnight, Natasha. And I’d prefer that you don’t dawdle. Understood?”
“Got it. Don’t let the door hit my ass on the way out. But I still don’t get what we’re doing.”
“As mind-blowing as this might be for you, this is what we’re doing. See, I have trouble sleeping—”
Eagerly, she offered her sage advice. “You should try a Percocet with Ambien. And if you’re already resistant to that combo, chase it with a little vodka. You’ll sleep.” She patted the mass of bicep and tricep muscles before resting her hand on them.
He gave her a disturbed glance over his shoulder. “Great idea. If I want to slowly turn into a med- and booze-dependent zombie.” Nestling his head back to a spot that seemed to settle the throbbing vein in his neck, he started again. “As I was saying, I have trouble sleeping. The past few weeks have been especially bad.”
“Diabolical scheming will do that to an evil dictator.”
Natasha’s smart-aleck words made his hand whip back. The smack on her ass nudged her closer. Unfortunately, his hand didn’t linger.
“So,” he said, “for the remainder of our time, all you’re going to do is lie there. But if you’re cold, there’s a blanket.”
What? “You’re going to pay me ten thousand dollars just to snuggle?”
The last thing she needed was a cover. His body was hot, and her needs rolled over her own body like a wildfire.
“Hmm . . .” He mulled it over. “You may also lightly stroke my hair. Just to soothe me.”
“May I?” Her sarcastic words fell flat. Thinking it over, she offered a suggestive alternative. “You could . . . do more. If it’ll help you sleep.”
Natasha wrapped her leg around him as she peered at the rugged lines of his profile. Her non-begging had to elicit some sort of reaction, right? But if he had one, it was well masked in the closed eyes of a man trying to nod off.
Alex said nothing. Not then. And not during the remainder of their time together.
For some of that time, she was bored out of her mind. But for the most part, she liked it. Watching this magnificent specimen as his breaths softened, raising and lowering his chest in a seductive pattern that kept her fascinated gaze fixed.
Another glance at the clock only confirmed that time was slipping away too fast.
Alex Drake was the single most frustrating and fascinating man she’d ever met. Was he interested in her? For more than a stand-in binkie?
Somehow, deep down, Natasha got how unusual this was compared to what he usually expected of women. Did that make her different? Special? Or just uninteresting?
Midnight came and went, but instead of leaving, she quietly tugged up the blanket. Snuggling into him, she was ready to nod off when his sudden shift to his back knocked her off the couch and onto her ass on the soft carpet. The sharp hey that popped from her lips didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping king.
Mission accomplished.
He’s asleep.
Discouraged, Natasha found the sofa no longer had space for both of them with his body splayed across it. Tucking the luxe blanket softly around his body, she marveled at the broad-shouldered stud one last time, burning the memory in her mind of each line of his face. A sudden shiver sent her scurrying for her clothes.
The cash in her hand was nice. Natasha measured its weight, casually bouncing it as an unexpected sense of longing moved her gaze back to Alex.
What if she stayed? Or came back tomorrow?
What if he’s pissed that I’m still here past midnight? Or wants to renege on our deal and keep the cash?
Stuffing the money deep in her cleavage, she headed out. As soon as she tiptoed out of the office and quietly shut the door, a whisper shot across the hall.
“Over here.”
Natasha followed his voice through the dim hallway. “You?” It was, once again, the hot and unfortunately gay Paco.
“Me.” He huffed out the word, his scowl giving him a distinctly parental air. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
Not having a ready alternative and wanting to see the bright yellow Lamborghini for herself, she let him. Like the drive with Alex, this one was quiet until she remembered she hadn’t given him her address.
“Oh, I live at—”
“I know where you live. It’s in your employee file. Here.”
It was too dark to make out the contents of the large folder he handed her, and she had no idea where the light switch in the space-age car was. “What’s this?”
“A letter of reference.”
Furious, Natasha screamed. “That asshole’s firing me?”
Calmly, Paco said, “Easy on the eardrums. And no, he’s not firing you. But with your qualifications, he’s pretty certain you’re not interested in continuing as a clerk. This letter also serves to show that you were in a short intern position. It’s common, coming right out of school, and prevents you from having to explain what you were doing at the company.”