“Chloe!” I try again.
Panic grips my chest. I try the handle. It’s unlocked, so I throw the door open.
My eyes immediately find her. She’s lying in the tub, eyes closed. I scan her body head to toe to determine if she’s hurt. My observations tell me she’s okay. I know she’s conscious because her head is tilted back, and she’s got her bottom lip pinned between her teeth. And her hand is moving between her legs. I can see it clear as day. With the exception of a few ripples her movement is making, the water is like glass.
The sound registers. It’s Chloe’s soft moan while her hand vigorously rubs her clit. Oh, fuck.
I should leave. Turn around and close the door. But my legs aren’t functioning. My eyes are in control of my body and they are taking in everything. The way Chloe’s hard, pink nipples break the surface of the water. Her wet hair floating over her shoulders, her neck exposed as she arches up toward the ceiling, her forehead wrinkling in focused concentration bordering on pleasure. The red polish on the toes that are curling around the edge of the tub. Fuck. There’s no way I’ll be able to get this image out of my brain. I’ll play it over and over again until I can close my eyes and sketch it in detail.
My conscience wakes up at the same time Chloe’s eyes fly open. We stare at each other.
“Barrett! What are you doing?!” she screams, water splashing everywhere as she flails about. She pulls an earbud from her ear, then scrambles to sit and hug her legs to her chest, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Don’t you knock?”
“Yes. Multiple times. You didn’t answer and I was worried you were hurt.” I clear my parched throat. “I thought with your head you got dizzy or something.”
“Oh.” Her voice is small. “Sorry. I lost track of time. I was listening to music.”
Among other things.
Now that I know she’s okay, my irritation is back.
“You’re late for dinner.”
“Okay. I’m coming.” I didn’t think it was possible for Chloe’s blush to get any deeper, but the realization of her words turns her skin crimson. “I mean, I’ll be there. Soon.”
My legs finally get the signal to move, so I leave, pulling the door shut behind me.
Three minutes later, Chloe appears in the kitchen in a bathrobe. It’s the robe Rose puts in all the guest bathrooms. It’s one size fits all and it swallows Chloe up. She looks like a giant marshmallow. Good. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to see any of her soft, creamy skin right now. I’m sure the bath water has made it warm and pliable.
She takes the seat where I’ve put a place setting for her and sets the napkin in her lap.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were waiting for me to come,” she says.
“I didn’t either.” I pick up my fork and start eating.
Chloe’s mouth opens wide with surprise, but then her eyes shift to her plate and she fills it with a bite of food. Those lips closing around her fork threaten to make my dick hard again. This is going to be a problem.
I usually like to taste my food. Enjoy what Dimitri has prepared, but tonight I shovel everything down in two minutes and excuse myself. I grab my laptop from my desk and head for my bedroom. With Chloe adding it to her list, the study is no longer a safe space, and with the way I’m feeling tonight, I need to be alone.
In my bedroom, I drop into the chair by the window and open my computer. But work is not enough of a distraction and eventually my mind wanders back to Chloe.
I wonder how I’m going to navigate this new living situation, how I’m going to keep things professional with Chloe—keep my hands to myself—but most of all, I wonder if Chloe finished.
The next morning, I don’t expect to see Chloe. She was adamant that she would be walking to work, and I was glad to hear it. I like the routine of checking emails and going over my daily schedule on the drive to the office. I don’t need Chloe’s presence distracting me from my morning routine.
Marcus is about to pull away from the curb when Chloe comes running down the steps.
“Wait!” I hear her call.
I have half a mind to pretend I don’t hear her, but Marcus is much nicer and hits the brakes.
Chloe flings open the door.
“Hi. Sorry,” she says, out of breath. “I’m running late.”
The ivory lace bra peeking through the buttons on her blouse catches my attention. So late apparently that she forgot to button her blouse.
With a clenched jaw, I pull my gaze away from Chloe’s cleavage. “You missed a button.”