I watched him type for a few minutes, then lent my head against his leg and returned to my book.
At five I went upstairs to get ready for dinner. I dug through some of the clothes I’d bought in LaPorte, and decided on a light blue sundress that kept my shoulders bare and fell to just above my knees. I didn’t know where we were going and this would work for either fancy or casual. I fixed my hair, brushed on a little makeup, and put on my necklace. Britt had insisted I get some shoes to go with the dress, so I rummaged for the sandals I’d stuck in my closet, never believing I’d have an occasion to wear heels. They were only a couple of inches high, but that was a lot more than I was used to, and I took a few practice steps until I was sure I had my balance. Mr. Hunter might send to me to finishing school after all if I stumbled and tripped all evening.
I pulled a light sweater out of my closet and went downstairs. Mr. Hunter was in the living room watching TV, but he turned it off and stood when I entered. He put one hand on his hip and made a motion with his other for me to spin. I did a slow turn for him. While he looked me over, I did the same to him. He was wearing slim black pants, belted, with a solid blue dress shirt, no tie. If his shirt were just a few shades lighter, we'd almost match.
He walked up to me and cupped my face, smiling down.
“Here’s my princess. You look lovely.”
“Thank you. You look nice too.”
“Shall we?”
“I’m ready if you are.”
“You’re going to come willingly? I don’t need to haul you over my shoulder?”
“Not this time,” I grinned, remembering him taking me upstairs yesterday. I was beginning to think he liked carrying me around.
“Then let’s go.” He held my hand on the way to the car.
We ate at one of the nicest seafood restaurants in town. I mentioned during dinner that I’d been here once before.
“Oh? Was it a special occasion?”
“It was a date, actually. A guy in one of my classes last fall asked me out.”
“Did you see him for very long?”
“No, that was our only date. He was nice, but we didn’t have that much in common.”
“You don’t have to have a lot in common with someone to start a relationship. Not if there’s an attraction.”
“That’s true, I guess. But there wasn’t an attraction, either. Alas, no sparks.”
“Too bad for him.”
“You don’t sound the least bit sorry.” I smiled at him over my wineglass.
“I’m not. I don’t like the thought of someone else touching you.” He smiled back, but I noticed his jaw tighten just a fraction.
“Don’t worry, not many have, and not in a long time. And no one’s touched me the way you have,” I added.
He reached for my knee under the table.
“Good.”
“What about you, Mr. Hunter? I’ve been wondering since I started working for you how you can possibly still be single.”
“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yes, of course. I mean, look at you. You’re fairly good-looking, moderately successful, somewhat well-mannered. Surely you could have lured some poor unsuspecting female into sharing your life with you by now.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing with you,” he smirked.
“Maybe,” I laughed. “But there’s no way I believe I’m your first victim.”
“No, but you’re the first in a long time for me as well. I’ve had a few girlfriends over the years. Some serious, some not. The period of my life after my parents died, I was a little wild. I told you I’d made some mistakes, and the last relationship I was in was one of them. It ended badly, and I swore off women for a while. Then I moved here and I guess I never met anyone who interested me. I don’t get out that much, you’ve probably noticed.”
“So no crazy ex-wives?”
“God, no. No, I’ve never been married.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“I thought I was once, when I was about your age.”
“Let me guess, you were too young to know better?”
“Very astute of you, Miss Lane.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don't mind.” He paused, his face growing pensive. “She was very pretty, very smart. A lot like you actually.” He smiled at me. “Unfortunately my parents didn’t approve of her.”
“Why not?”
“My family was quite wealthy and my father especially was very status-conscious. She didn’t meet his standards.”
“That’s sad.” I couldn’t even imagine my dad telling me who I could or couldn’t date.
“I thought it was unforgivable.” He paused again, lost in his thoughts. “I wanted to run away with her,” he finally added.
“How romantic.”
“How young. Luckily, she refused.”
“Why?”
“She’d gotten a full scholarship to the art school we attended and she said she couldn’t walk away from that. At the time, I felt like she didn’t care for me the way I did for her, but in retrospect she clearly made the right decision.”
“I guess I can understand how she must have felt. A full scholarship is a big deal.”
He nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his dinner.
“I’d have been sorely tempted, though, if it had been me,” I smiled.
“Would you now.”
“Well, maybe. You already knew how to play the piano?”
He smiled back at me and nodded, picking up his wineglass and taking a sip.
“Then it would have been a difficult choice.”
He put his wine glass down and reached across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering.
“So, no torrid affairs in your past, Miss Lane?”
“No. Like I said, boyfriends have been few and far between.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” I shrugged. “I dated a little in high school, and in college I had a couple of boyfriends but nothing serious. When I started here last fall, a few guys asked me out, but none of them interested me that much and I figured I was only here for the year, so there wasn’t any reason to get involved with anyone.”
He turned his eyes down to his plate and was silent for a minute, fiddling with his dinner.
“Well, at least it sounds like I don’t have to worry about one of your peers snatching you away from me.”
“No, you have to watch out for other men your age.” I made a dismissive gesture with my eyes, letting him know how absurd he was being.
“And if someone thirty-nine comes along and catches your eye?”
“He’d have to have two pianos.” I smirked at him. “And a bigger library.”
After dinner we strolled for a while through a nearby park. It was about eight, but the sun was already starting to go down and the air had finally cooled. Mr. Hunter helped me put my sweater over my shoulders, giving my waist a quick squeeze as I straightened the hem, and keeping his arm around me afterward as we walked back to the car.
The drive home was quiet. I was full, not used to eating a whole entree for dinner, let alone two glasses of wine, and feeling very relaxed. I leaned back against the headrest and watched Mr. Hunter’s hand work the gear-shift.
“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Hunter,” I finally remembered to say.
“You’re welcome, princess.”
We parked in the garage and he helped me out, keeping hold of my hand as we entered the house.
He flipped on the kitchen lights, dropped his keys on the counter, and pulled me into an embrace.
“You have no idea how difficult it was for me not to touch you tonight,” he murmured, running his hands down my back, past my hips, squeezing my butt and using his hold to pull my hips closer to his. I knew from last night how much he really did appreciate my behind, and I arched my back, lifting it into his hands.
“Oh
god, what you do to me.” His face was buried in my neck, his mouth hot and wet on my skin. “In this dress, your legs, you have no idea. So beautiful.”
I could feel the rising effect I was having on him with our bodies pressed together, and his words were all that I needed to light me on fire too.
“Upstairs,” I whispered, willing him to take me to bed.
“No. Here.”
“Here?”
“Turn around.”
I did. I leaned down on the island. “Like this, sir?”
“Yes, just like that.”
I felt his hands on my calves first. They rose slowly up my legs, past the back of my knees, up the back of my thighs, bringing my dress up with them.
“This is what I think about when you bring in my dinner,” he said in a low voice. “I think about turning you over the table and doing this.” He pulled down my panties, eased them over my shoes, stood back up and pushed my legs apart with his knees. “I think about you all spread out like this for me. I think about how there’s no meal in the world comparable to your sweetness, your beauty.”
I heard him undo his belt followed by the rustle of cloth as he must have lowered his pants. I could barely breathe with anticipation. I fisted my hands, trying to control the tremors that were already sweeping through me. Seconds later he pushed into me with so much force I was lifted off my feet. The loudest sound I’d ever made in the house came out of me from somewhere deep inside.
“That’s it. Let me hear you, beautiful girl.” He began moving in and out, holding my waist tightly in his hands, setting a wickedly slow pace that soon had me begging for more. I was indecent in my pleas, all care thrown aside as I bucked my hips, desperately urging him to give me what I needed.
“When you beg me like that,” he panted behind me, “if you only knew what it does to me.” He began picking up his pace. “You. Are. My. Perfect. Girl.” He matched a thrust to each word.
“Oh!” I felt like I was yelling but I had no control over myself as each of his thrusts began feeling deeper and harder than the last, bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm. I felt one of his hands snake up into my hair and he pulled my head back, lifting my torso off the island. He leaned down over me and buried his face in my neck, his thrusts growing even more intense. “Sylvia,” he moaned, “my god, Sylvia, what you do to me.”
That was all it took for me to fall apart, my name passing his lips. Every single muscle in my body clenched into a spasm of pure joy, as another loud moan escaped me. I felt him thrust once more, then again, and then he stiffened as well, his moan in my ear echoing my own. He collapsed on top of me, our breaths the only sounds in the room. He slowly kissed the back of my neck, my shoulder, the top of my back, my other shoulder, the side of my face, my lips. I lay underneath him, savoring each touch of his mouth.
“You’ll sleep in my bed from now on,” he murmured into my lips.
“Yes,” I managed to agree on a shaky exhale.
“Then let’s get you upstairs. I’m not done with you.”
Chapter 20
“Something amusing you, Miss Lane?”
“Oh no, sir. Nothing at all.”
“Then do you care to explain that silly grin on your face?”
I shook my head innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.” I pursed my lips to keep my grin from spreading.
We were sitting at the island eating breakfast, and I, of course, having the maturity of a thirteen year old, couldn’t stop replaying last night in my head.
He grinned back at me and took a sip of coffee.
“I was just thinking how much I love this kitchen.” I ran my hand over the spot where he’d bent me over last night. “And I really like this island.”
“Do you, now.”
“Hm-hmm. It’s the perfect height. You know, to work at.”
He chuckled. “I like this island, too. Very handy.”
“Someone else in this house is very handy.”
He snorted into his cup.
“Is something amusing you, Mr. Hunter?” I took a bite of toast.
He shook his head. “It just turns out my very proper little housekeeper has a naughty streak. I should have checked her references more thoroughly.”
“You should have. You can’t be too careful.”
“I realize that now, but what can I do? I can’t let her go.”
“No?”
“Nope. She’s quickly become invaluable to me.”
“I guess you’ll just have to suffer on with her then.”
“I guess I will. Poor me.” He smiled that crinkly-eyed smile that I loved and impulsively I got up and went around the island to hug him. He pulled me to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms around me tightly, burying his face in my neck. He relaxed his arms and ran them up and down my back, letting out a sigh. “I feel as though I'm never going to get enough of you, Miss Lane.”
I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“Sadly, though, I have a lot of work to get done this week. I’ve got to try to leave you alone.” He pulled me in tightly again.
“I’ll try not to distract you. I don’t want to interfere with your work.”
“You have no idea how much you distract me without even trying.” He reached up and cupped my face, tilting it so I was looking at him. He kissed me lightly. “I’m always wondering where you are in the house, what you're doing.” He kissed me again. “Wondering if I can make up a plausible excuse to come find you.”
“Sneak up on me, you mean.” I kissed him back.
“I like to watch you work.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“It took me a while to figure out, but yeah.”
He chuckled and kissed my nose. “Who could blame me, my beautiful girl?” He ran his thumb over my cheek, his face growing serious. “I got two new emails this morning from faculty looking for help on their translations. This is my busiest time of year, the summer, when professors aren't teaching and are hoping to publish instead.”
“Maybe we should have a new rule. No touching until dinner.”
He closed his eyes and pulled me in to him. “That’s what I was thinking. We’ll start in about ten minutes.” He buried his face back into my neck.
“Mmm. Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes, you’re right.”
By Friday, we seemed to have set the ground rules of our relationship. During the day, Mr. Hunter treated me much as he had before, his self-control slipping only a couple of times. I didn’t mind his need to keep me at arm’s length during the day because our dinners became only that more anticipated and erotic, and the nights I spent in his bed were so passionate, so sensuous, that I was already completely under his thrall. Even the nights we didn’t make love he still found ways to make me feel cherished and desired. He knew every inch of my body, and I his, and by the end of that week, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I think I was already in love.
Britt saw it on my face immediately when I met her for lunch. “It happened!”
I grinned from ear to ear. “What gave it away?”
“You're glowing enough to light a small city, maybe a big one. You have to tell me everything, starting from the beginning, right now.”
I bit my lip, trying to get some control over my stupid grin. “Um, it started last weekend.”
“And? How is he?”
“Amazing, Britt. Amazing.”
“Ah, look at you. He must be. Now come on,” she bounced up and down in her chair. “I want details!”
“Okay, okay, calm down! I kissed him in the library Saturday afternoon and then he carried me upstairs to bed.”
“Oh my god, how romantic.”
“He is so romantic. He took me out for dinner at Pierre’s Sunday night and when we got home he made love to me in the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen?”
“It was like he couldn’t wait. It w
as incredible.”
“In the kitchen. Wow.”
“I know. You were right about his pent-up energy.”
She shook her head in awe. “And to think I used to be jealous of your bike and dress. Now you’re getting the really good stuff.”
“Yes, I am.” I happily punctuated each word.
“So are you still working for him?”
“Of course. Nothing’s changed except that now I sleep in his bed at night.”
“And it’s all good? You’re okay sleeping with your boss?” She was smiling at me, but there was a serious undertone to her question.
“God, yes. It’s kind of hard to explain, the way we get along. When I’m not working, he’s always treated me rather formally, and that hasn’t changed very much, although he’s more affectionate. And when I’m working, he still does nice things like play the piano when I’m dusting the library, just longer, like he's trying to make me happy. The days aren’t really all that different.”
“Just the nights.”
“Yep.”
We ate for a while, exchanging grins every now and then.
“So what finally got him to break?”
I thought back to last weekend. “He'd begun touching me at dinner, and I’d told him that I liked it, thinking that would be enough of a signal, but it wasn’t until I told him how much I wanted him to touch me that he gave in.”
“So you sit with him at dinner now?”
I nodded. “He said he likes my company.”
“And he touches you?”
“He likes to touch my hair and face during dinner and feed me from his plate.”
She gave me a puzzled look.
“I know it sounds weird. It probably is weird, but what can I say, I like it.”
She didn't say anything for a minute, looking me over.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy,” she finally smiled at me, “so as long as you know what you’re doing, I won’t say anything about how odd that sounds.”
“Britt, you know I love you, but cut me a little slack, okay? This is all new to me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m still trying to absorb the fact that I’m falling in love with my boss.”
A Slow Boil Page 19