Chapter 5
AMALIE
Join me.
Two words that could change the total trajectory. I’m in my night clothes, feeling more exposed than the man who’s naked in front of me.
My brain is screaming that it’s a terrible idea, but my body isn’t getting the memo. My skin prickles, my pulse pounds, and my panties are fucking soaked.
I take one more sip of vodka, pushing the glass away so I don’t lose any more of my inhibitions. The drink burns deliciously all the way down, pooling in my stomach, mingling with the nervous desire.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He watches me, totally relaxed, arms still draped over the edge of the tub. The water glides around his chest and shoulders, catching the light on every plane of muscle.
“Why not?” Another slow sip of vodka, his eyes on me.
Because I’m insanely attracted to you and you’re my boss.
Because my brother is working undercover and if you poke too hard into my background to find him you might put us all in danger.
And because men like you ruin women like me without even trying.
“Because.”
He tilts his head. “You’re uncomfortable being naked.”
It’s not a question. It’s a true statement. And it lands on me like a spotlight.
Heat rushes through my body. “I didn’t say that.”
He smirks, amused. “You didn’t need to.”
I force a shrug. “Well, I don’t make a habit out of stripping at work in front of my boss.”
“I already told you, I don’t mix women with my son. This—” he gestures lazily to us, the water, the room, the very obvious tension “—is separate. What happens here, stays here.”
Just as I thought, but how is that even possible? How the hell could I look him in the eye tomorrow?
I glance down at the surface of the water. “I guess I’m not comfortable being exposed like that in front of someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“You know. All of… that.” I do this stupid little wave in the direction of his gorgeous, powerful-looking chest. It’s a mistake, because now I’m very obviously staring right at it.
“Rich?” he asks. “Dangerous? Older?”
How about all of the above?
Max pops into my head and I hate it. I hate it so much.
“It’s just… your body. It’s toned and muscular and—” I gesture to him again. “And my body... isn’t.”
There’s a pause. Water bubbles softly against tile.
His voice is lower. Rougher. Almost like he’s angry. “Look at me, Amalie.”
I do. He holds my gaze, unflinching.
“I thought you were an artist?”
“Huh?” I’m genuinely confused.
“An artist. If you call yourself an artist, that suggests you’ve studied the great works of art throughout history. Correct?”
“Of course I have.”
He nods, as if that was the answer he was looking for. “In that case, you know that your body,” he looks me up and down, “is the kind that’s inspired artists for thousands of years.”
My heart and breath stop at the same time.
“Soft,” he continues quietly. “Full. Real. Not this starved, edited nonsense the world is obsessed with. Women like you...” His eyes move over my body again, slowly, unapologetically, over the curve of my breast under my cardigan, the line of my hips, the thickness of my thighs, “...are the reason marble was carved. Paintings were made. Men went to war.”
My face is on freaking fire. “You’re just saying things to flatter me.”
“I don’t just say things. I speak the truth. And the truth is that your body is beyond compare.”
I shiver. A part of me, the part I thought Max had smothered, feels like it’s coming back to life. And it’s a part of me that wants Roman so badly it hurts.
He leans back, voice softening just a bit. “I don’t expect anything if you come into this water. This is for you. To feel good in your own skin. To stop apologizing for taking up space.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding, vodka buzzing in my veins. It would be so easy to laugh it all off, to back away, to run to my room and curl up with my insecurities wrapped around me like a weighted blanket.
Instead, I hear myself saying, “If I do this, you have to promise to close your eyes.”
His lips twitch. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“Roman,” I warn.
He considers me for a moment. “I will stay in the water. And I won’t touch you unless you ask.”
That is absolutely not the same thing. My hands are trembling with excitement and nerves. I tug my cardigan tighter around me for a moment, breathing hard. Then I straighten.
“Turn around.”
He laughs. “No.”
“Roman.”
“Why are you so determined not to be seen?” he asks. “You walk like you’re afraid to offend just by being you.”
“That’s not… I don’t…”
He narrows his eyes. “If you knew how you look to me right now you wouldn’t be hiding.”
His words have more of an effect on me than I want to admit.
Shit. Here goes nothing.
I take my cardigan off first, sliding it over my shoulders. The T-shirt is next, leaving me in my bra and shorts. I feel like the walls are watching me. And in Roman’s house, that might be true.
I slide off my shorts. The warm air wraps around my bare legs. My thick thighs suddenly feel like the most exposed things in the world.
“Still with me?” he asks with a smile.
“Something like that.”
He chuckles, and damn if the sound doesn’t make me feel just a little more comfortable.
I reach around and unhook my bra with clumsy fingers, letting it fall, one arm instantly crossing over my chest.
Roman’s got this smoldering, reverent look on his face, like he’s witnessing something holy.
The last barrier is my panties. I hesitate, breath shuddering.
“Close your eyes.”
He doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say no. He simply waits.
I sigh, practically vibrating at this point. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I gather my nerve, and with my free hand, pull my panties down. I try to cover myself so quickly I nearly smack my own lady business. I hurry over to the tub and slide into the water.
It’s warm and lovely, the jets hitting my muscles just right. I let out a sigh, both from the pressure of the jets and from the relief of having my body hidden under the water.
He’s still looking at me with that expression of reverence, his gaze almost too intense. I fight the urge to sink beneath the water like a panicked otter.
“Say something.”
“You are devastating.”
My heart trips. “In a good way?”
“In a very good way.”
A thought comes to mind. It’s silly and I know it. But I say it anyway.
“So. Truth or dare?”