Chapter 2 #2
“It’s just, when I see this house, I see what a privilege it is to be able to live here.
The idea of it not being used for what it was meant for feels like such a waste.
Imagine waking up with the sunrise flooding this kitchen with light, sipping coffee at the breakfast bar.
Or working from home in the library, it’s secluded enough to focus but still connected to the rest of the house.
I’ll show you in a bit. And for entertaining?
This house is perfect. The pool and bar area practically beg for parties.
But it’s also ideal for quiet evenings, curling up by the fireplace in the living room or reading a book in the back lounge while the sun sets.
For a family with kids, this house is a dream.
Despite the luxury finishes, it’s incredibly practical and child-friendly.
There are no dangerous stairs or railings, and the materials are durable and low maintenance.
Plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms, too, for a typical family. ”
As she speaks, vivid images form in my mind: summer evenings, parties, children running across the lawn.
Nora knows how to weave a compelling story, selling not just a house but a vision of a life.
And yet, I sense there’s something more behind her words.
It’s as though she’s painting a picture of a life she’s imagined but doesn’t have.
There’s a faint trace of sadness when she talks about the family with kids.
“Is your client someone with a family or single?” she asks.
“My client is single.” And determined not to change that anytime soon. I add that thought spontaneously.
I can’t picture myself with children. What I can vividly imagine, though, is Nora in this house.
I could step up to her right now and trap her between the kitchen counter and myself.
She’d widen her eyes in shock and surprise, but she wouldn’t push me away.
She’d be too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed by excitement and desire to say a word as I undo the buttons of her blouse one by one, letting it slide off her shoulders to the floor.
With a longing, intense gaze and a soft moan, she’d give silent permission to go further.
She wants this as much as I do. I place my hands on her neck and let them glide gently over her shoulders.
As I move downward, I take the delicate straps of her white balconette bra with me.
I kiss her bare neck and take in her intoxicating scent as if it’s the last time I’ll ever have my sense of smell.
I place one hand on her exposed lower back while the other cups her breasts.
My hips press firmly against her, my arousal unmistakable against her abdomen.
I can feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickens.
My fingers tease the smooth curve of her breast, coaxing another soft moan from her lips as I let them graze her nipple through the lace.
Her reaction ignites a fire in me so intense I have to stifle my own groan.
My arousal grows unbearable, the need for release overpowering, and she’s the only one who can grant it.
Her body arches into mine, seeking her own satisfaction as fervently as I seek mine.
“Please follow me to the living room,” Nora says kindly.
What? My inappropriate fantasies are mercilessly interrupted.
Fortunately, Nora is unaware of my illicit thoughts and continues the tour as if I hadn’t almost taken her against the counter.
She walks a few steps ahead of me, and I immediately feel the distance she’s created.
Trying to close the gap—both physical and otherwise—I hasten to catch up, battling an erection that’s determined to bridge the divide between my daydreams and reality.
Nora is beautiful, and no matter how much I might want to deny it, she stirs something in me.
I don’t know what it is exactly, but she’s the first woman in a long time who reminds me that I’m a human being of flesh and blood.
She reminds me that I, too, have desires and needs beyond work.
As if her presence anchors me in the present moment.
Still, she’s not my type. She’s too real, too pure, maybe too normal.
If I’m in the mood for a quick fling, it wouldn’t—couldn’t—be Nora.
I may have a reputation, but you don’t ruin innocence like hers.
Along with needs, I also have boundaries.
“The living space is exceptionally warm and inviting. Here, you see the fireplace framed by a marble column reaching up to the ceiling, and next to it, custom-made, open wooden shelves. In this room, textiles were key to creating the intimate atmosphere—a thick, plush, cream-colored rug anchors the space, complemented by a large dark-gray L-shaped sofa. Light-green wool throw pillows and soft, dusty-pink cushions add just the right touch of color. The furniture and decor aren’t included in the price, but that’s negotiable.
Your client is bound to fall in love with this unique space,” she says enthusiastically. Her eyes sparkle.
Should I tell her? It’s not like I did it on purpose.
She immediately assumed I was Bertrand. She could have asked my name, or maybe she didn’t know I was tagging along as the buyer?
I could have introduced myself, of course…
but I didn’t. This is too much fun, a rare distraction in an otherwise monotonous day.
I haven’t felt this inner grin in so long.
I’m allowing myself this little pleasure, though guilt creeps in right behind it.
I shouldn’t feel this good, and I shouldn’t be teasing Nora.
Max was reduced to ashes, and here I am, laughing. That can’t be right.