12. Cassidy
I’ve been tossing and turning for over two hours. It’s not the fact that I’m in a strange house, in a strange room, in this strange bed. I mean, the mattress is a thousand times more comfortable than my own.
Remington is just down the hall. That I’m so close to finding the answers I need, but stuck here without a chance of getting them, is throwing me for a loop.
Every time I’m about to drift off, I remember his deep voice, or the way he looms, or the cruel certainty in his eyes that I will obey…no matter what he commands of me.
I take my phone out, glancing at the time.
Two o’clock in the morning.
I should be fast asleep—my muscles are aching from a full day of demanding physical labor.
Hmm…is Ethan asleep?
I sit up in a rush.
If he’s sleeping, maybe I can sneak into his room and go through his things. It’s risky…but if I find something, I can give him some or other excuse to leave in the morning.
Or I could just steal his laptop and take it with me. That would be less risky.
The more I run the scenario through my head, the more sure I am that it’s better than staying around here, waiting for Remington to discover that I’m not the person he ordered from Shimmer and Shine.
I take another few minutes to build up the courage to actually get out of bed.
It was nice and warm under the covers, but I’m guessing Ethan doesn’t bother turning on the heat inside the house when he has a roaring fire going in his room twenty-four-seven. I shiver, absently grabbing a chenille throw from the foot of the bed to wrap around myself.
It helps a little. At least my teeth aren’t chattering.
I took off everything I was wearing except the negligee, my panties, and my leggings, hoping the more comfortable I was, the easier I’d fall asleep.
It didn’t help.
I’d get dressed, but I’m worried I’ll lose my nerve and just climb back into bed…or get into my car and leave.
Unlocking my door, I stand for a moment in the hall, soaking up the sound of the enormous manor.
My bare feet are silent on the thick carpets as I creep down the hall to Ethan’s room. I listen at his door for a few minutes, and I swear I hear snoring.
Yes!
I send a brief prayer to whatever deity is on call tonight, and turn the knob.
Someone’s looking out for me—the door’s unlocked.
The heat hits me a moment before the smell of soap and wood fire. It’s not as hot in here as it was the last time—and a quick glance at the sullen red glow throbbing from the blackened logs shows why. I’m surprised Ethan didn’t add a few more logs… until my eyes sweep to the bed and I realize why.
Ethan is flat on his stomach. Fast asleep. And wearing just a towel.
The rational part of me knows what to do. Grab his laptop, and sneak out before he wakes up.
Unfortunately, the rational part of my brain is being mugged by the far more aggressive, irrational part of me… and it’s already handed over its wallet.
I inch over to the bed on silent feet, clutching the chenille throw tight around me.
Staring down at Ethan’s large, chiseled body, I wonder if this is what the Lilliputians felt like when they’d tied down Gulliver. I take in every corded muscle in his powerful body. The faint scar on one forearm, another on his shoulder. His angular jaw. The way his broad back rises and falls. He is snoring, but so quietly I’m surprised I heard it from the doorway.
As if sensing a disturbance, Ethan rumbles something incoherent and rolls onto his back.
I clap a hand over my mouth, stifling a surprised gasp that would have woken the sleeping giant. His towel is tented by a big, thick cock.
Why the hell I just stand there like I’ve never seen genitals before is a mystery. I’ve watched porn. I’ve even gone all the way with a guy before. But this… this is so graphic. So…wrong.
But in a deliciously fucked-up way.
I step closer and almost take a peek under the towel. But thank God, my rational mind knees its attacker in the groin and gets away.
I shove all thoughts of what’s lurking under Ethan’s towel out of my head, and I spin on my heel so my back is to him. Then I force out a breath and sneak over to his desk.
My fingers brush familiar fabric, and I grin when I see my coat hanging over his office chair. I must have forgotten it here earlier today.
I peek at him over my shoulder—only to make sure he’s still asleep—but my eyes gravitate to his enormous cock before I can stop them. I glance away, but the damage is done. A tingle starts up between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs together, trying to get it to stop.
Forget about him, Cassidy. You have a job to do.
The laptop screen is open, but besides one flashing light, it looks like it’s turned off. All I need to do is sneak it out of here without waking him up.
Easy peasy.
Thank God I notice that it’s still connected to its charger.
Holding my breath, I wriggle the adapter out of its socket.
Come on, come on…
As I finally get the cord free, the laptop beeps. Loudly.
Shit!
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ethan growls behind me.
Clapping a hand over my mouth does nothing to stifle my gasp this time. I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear the bedsprings groan in relief when Ethan stands. I can’t make myself look at him, can’t bear the thought of seeing him walking over here with that hard cock of his.
A shiver chases through my body.
“M-My coat. I came to fetch my coat.” My voice gets higher, more panicked as I speak.
There’s a soft click. The lamp on his nightstand fills his room with a faint glow.
“It couldn’t wait until morning?”
By some miracle, he doesn’t seem to realize his beeping laptop woke him. Maybe I can still talk my way out of this. “I—I have to leave.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yeah, uh…I have, uh…family emergency.”
Every hair on my body is standing on end, but I can’t make myself turn around. It’s so much easier to pretend he’s not looming behind me, head and shoulders taller than me, if I can’t see him.
“And you were planning to leave without telling me?”
“I—I didn’t want to wake you.” I whisper a belated, almost guilty, “Sir.”
“Too late.”
I spin around, my eyes glued to his—so shadowed, they could be black. He gazes at me with a tilt to his head, as if intrigued by my suicidal tendencies. The low light from the lamp highlights every muscle on his massive body, from his broad shoulders to his trim waist.
Thank God he’s wearing his towel, but I’m still too terrified to move or speak. Fuck it, I’m struggling to breathe.
“Are all these theatrics part of the package? Because, honestly, it’s a little heavy-handed. Are you new to this?”
What the hell is he talking about? I stand frozen as he approaches. Just from the way he moves, steady and calm, like a predator stalking its prey, I know I’m well and truly fucked. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, hot and cold prickles starting up in my fingertips.
What can I say to calm down this monster? To stop him advancing on me like a starved predator who’s just spotted injured prey?
“Lucky for you, I’m an excellent tutor.” He twitches his hand, and that’s when my stomach bottoms out in fear.
He’s holding a belt.