Chapter 1 #2
“I’m sorry,” she says, bending to pick up the rag, which gives me a clear view down the V-neck of her shirt. Her tits look to be a perfect handful. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” I have a pretty good idea, but still, I need to ask the question. Besides, I like the flush that coats her cheeks at my question.
She straightens her spine, her shoulders pulling tight as those big blue eyes lock with mine. “I’m Eden. I work for Dust ‘N Shine, and I’m taking over your account from Tiffany. Her husband’s job was transferred, and she had to quit unexpectedly.”
“Why was I not notified?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” she says, making my cock twitch in my jeans. “But I’m here. I’ll be here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, just as Tiffany was. Also, just as with Tiffany, you are my only account, so if you need additional services, I’m available.”
Fuck me. Why does my mind instantly rush to the gutter with the “extra services” she can offer me? I’m not that guy, and I certainly don’t hook up with employees. Even if technically, she’s not my employee, that’s still wrong. Don’t shit where you eat and all that.
“I don’t typically need extra services.” I’m a quiet guy, living a quiet life.
In fact, the guys are very rarely here. This place is just for me 99 percent of the time.
A couple of times a year, I fly Nathan and Hope out for a visit and a game, but that’s it.
The guys are my family, aside from Nathan and Hope.
There’s no one to have over to make a mess, and despite my faults, I’m a pretty neat guy.
You learn to be clean and tidy when you grow up in foster care.
You don’t want to give the family whose house you’re living in any excuse to get rid of you, even if they find one anyway.
“That’s what Tiffany said. She gave me her routine and told me to call her if I have any issues. You won’t even know I’m here, Mr. Vaughn.”
I study her to see if she recognizes my name. She’s been in my home most of the day, if she’s truly keeping Tiffany’s hours, so I’m sure she knows I’m a professional athlete.
“I like my privacy, Miss…” My voice trails off.
“Miller. Eden Miller.”
“Right. Miss Miller, I like my privacy. I’ll be following up with the agency to ensure all background checks and confidentiality paperwork have been executed.”
“Oh, it has been.” She smirks as she turns to the kitchen counter and picks up a manila envelope. “Tiffany said you would want to see for yourself, so I made sure to bring a copy of everything with me.” She hands me the envelope, and I take it from her.
I stare at those big blue eyes, and I know it’s time to flee. Why the fuck does my new housekeeper have to be sexy as fuck? “I’ll be in my office.” Turning on my heel, I stalk off to my office, where I plan to stay until the sexy Eden leaves.
Plopping down in my chair, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale before pulling the contents of the envelope out and rifling through the papers.
She passed her BCI and FBI background checks.
Yes, they do both. She’s signed all the confidentiality agreements.
It’s all here in black and white. And from what I could tell, walking through the living room, she’s doing a fine job—just as good, if not better than Tiffany, if the scent of the house has anything to say about it.
It smelled clean and fresh. Maybe she uses different products.
Whatever it is, there’s no reason to call the agency and have her removed.
What would I even say? She can’t work here because my cock twitches in my jeans when I look at her?
That I’m a thirty-two-year-old man who’s struggling with inappropriate thoughts?
Yeah, can’t do that. It has to be a fluke.
It has to be from spending the day with my friends and their wives, watching as their families grow.
Something about that has me craving companionship.
That’s all this is.
To prove to myself that’s all this is, I stand and stalk back to the living room, planting my ass on the couch to watch SportsCenter. I ignore the beauty on her hands and knees, wiping down my lower cabinets in the kitchen. She’s just here to do a job. She has no effect on me.
I’m doing great, focused on what the sports casters are saying, until she steps into the living room.
“I’m all done with today’s list, Mr. Vaughn. Is there anything else I can do for you? Tiffany said that she sometimes cooks for you. Would you like me to do that before I leave?”
“No,” my reply comes out harsher than I intended. “No, thank you,” I say, this time softening my words. “That will be all.”
“Great,” she says brightly. “I’ll see you on Friday.” With that, she moves to the hallway, gathers her things, and disappears out the front door.
Maybe it’s time to get laid. It’s been far too long. Grabbing my phone to text the guys, I freeze. They’re all married. The last thing they want to do is leave a warm bed with their women to grab a drink with me so I can find someone to lose myself in for a few hours.
I toss my phone back to the couch. Honestly, I’m not feeling it anyway.
What’s the point? It’s all empty. That’s why I stopped.
Sure, the rush of an orgasm is great, but sex with a stranger is impersonal because I make it that way.
I never kiss them, and on the rare occasion that I do hook up, I always take them from behind.
It’s easier to detach that way.
Standing, I move to the kitchen for a beer and strip down to my boxer briefs, letting my clothes fall to the floor.
I’ll grab them on my way back inside. Pulling open the sliding glass door, I push back the cover on the hot tub and climb in.
I enclosed the tub so that my neighbors can’t see.
The guys keep telling me I need to buy a house in their neighborhood, but it’s just me.
Why do I need all that space? This condo suits me just fine.
This is what I needed.
Just me.
That’s all I need.