Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I swallow as I look up at him, unsure of what the steepled fingers in front of his mouth mean.
“Okay.”
Deacon isn’t even surprised. I’ve turned my entire life upside down with a secret that doesn’t even make him raise an eyebrow.
“Okay?”
He shrugs. “Are you saying that you can’t work with him because of the sexual relationship you had with the man?”
“What I had with Archer Bremen is over. It’ll only be a working relationship from here on out.”
I say the words with certainty, but they still feel like lies.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he nods at me.
I leave his office, refusing to go back to work for Archer until the official notification comes through my email, but I don’t even make it back to my office before my phone chimes with the notification.
Forty-five minutes later, I don’t expect the smugness I see on Archer’s face when he opens the door. I can easily see it’s a power thing. He’s able to control what’s going on, and Archer has never been one to resist doing just that.
The man has to be in control of everything around him. I may be here to work, but I refuse to play into whatever else the man has planned.
Since it’s Sunday and I know Archer has no scheduled appointments today, I walk in and take up the spot I used to consider mine on the couch, refusing to look at him despite him standing in the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“There’s no time for that,” he says when I reach for the television remote.
I turn my head and look at him, trying my hardest not to notice how fucking handsome the man is.
“It’s Sunday,” I remind him, scooping up the remote.
My eyes follow him as he reaches for a piece of paper on the table beside where I’m sitting, holding my breath as I try to figure out a response if he touches me,
My skin tingles with need, but my brain reminds me that the part of all of this where we touched is over.
“I have a list of outings planned,” he says. “But first, I’m starting with yoga. The TV noise will pull me out of my meditation.”
“You have a gym to do yoga in.”
“After yoga, I’m heading to the grocery store. I found one a little further from the organic place we normally go to, but it’s in a quieter part of town.”
My jaw flexes as I look up at him, my finger hitting the mute button on the television. He mentioned the noise, not the screen giving him trouble.
“After I unpack the groceries, I’m going to get a massage.”
He looks in my direction, looking at me with something I’ve seen in his eyes a hundred times. It’s as if he’s undressing me with his eyes, and as much as I hate it, my body begins to respond. I break eye contact with him.
“You can watch if you like.”
I don’t know if he means the massage or right now, because he pulls his yoga mat from behind the couch and bends in the middle, stretching out his back as he touches his toes.
It’s all part of his scheme, I remind myself as he moves from one pose to the next, his lithe body mere feet from me.
I do my best to keep my eyes on the muted television, but not watching him is impossible.
If he didn’t have places to go today, I’d get up and walk out. I realize now that I’m lying to myself because I could easily go to another room or wait for him to finish while sitting in my vehicle.
The sight of him makes my heart ache and my dick hard.
I was fucking fooling myself to think that I could be around this man and not react to him. He’s potent and addictive. Knowing exactly what that patch of skin on his back tastes like makes me miserable because all I can do is sit here and keep my hands to myself.
To keep myself from reaching out to him, I tuck both hands under my damn thighs, and glare at the television, refusing to look his way again.
I manage to do just that even when he stands and stretches with his arms over his head. He chuckles, the sound both a balm to my heart and an irritation because it’s just one more way Archer is exerting his control.
“Going to go shower,” he says as he rolls up his yoga mat. “You can watch if you like.”
I ignore him, and he laughs again as he leaves the room.
“Only fucking security detail my ass,” I mutter once he’s gone.
I ignore the ache in my balls at knowing he’s naked and wet upstairs. I swore to myself and Deacon that what Archer and I had was over. By the time he makes it back downstairs, clean and smelling amazing, I’ve almost convinced myself to have a conversation with him.