9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Lane
The drive back to the hotel is comfortable, despite what happened.
This wasn’t my intention when spending the day with him.
Sure, I’d thought of it when I knew we’d be spending time together in the hotel, but it was more of a hope than a goal.
I’d planned on teasing him. See him blush.
Watch him squirm. I didn’t really think anything would happen.
Tage has the key to the room and swipes it in the elevator to get us up to the top floor, and then again to get into our room. The door falls closed heavily behind us, a loud reminder that we’re in here alone. We stand in the living area, staring at each other, neither of us sure what to do.
Do we go to our rooms? Go to one of our rooms? Fuck on the couch? Go to sleep?
These are only a few of the options. Truthfully, they’re pretty endless.
“I was going to take a bath…” I say.
“A bath?” he smirks. “Like a child?”
I should argue. He’s been making comments about me being incapable of taking care of myself since the first day I hired him. But this is an opportunity that I can’t give up.
“Yes, like a child. Which means I need someone to watch me. Up for the task?”
He keeps his eyes firmly on mine, and I can’t tell which way he’s going to answer. Then his arm lifts, slightly gesturing toward my room, for me to lead the way.
His footsteps are soft but sure as they follow behind me. I lift the ridiculous shirt over my head as I step into the room, tossing it onto the bed. I’ll hide it away in the back of my closet when I get home, where it’ll stay for the rest of my life.
“Are you joining me?” I ask, turning to face him.
“That would be weird. You know, since I’m supposed to be watching you and all.”
My brows shoot up, but… if this is how he wants to play it, this is how we can play it. I have no shame in being watched.
“Your loss.”
He mutters something under his breath, but I don’t catch what it is. Maybe something about it not being a loss? I don’t know.
I sit on the end of the bed to take off my shoes and socks, then stand to undo my belt, button, and zipper, before sliding my pants off and laying those on the bed too.
Tage’s gaze goes straight to my dick, which is held comfortably within my boxer briefs. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something. Offer it up to him. Ask him if he likes what he sees. But I keep my mouth shut, because sometimes it’s better that way.
I head into the bathroom to turn on the faucets and plug the tub. It’s spacious enough for me, him, and a few others. But if he insists on watching, he can watch.
Should I be sleeping with my assistant? I mean, I guess not. It could complicate things. Piss him off. He could quit, make my life hell, or who knows what else. But I feel like Tage and I can be adults about this, without having to have the speech about it.
I go about my routine as I normally would if he weren’t here.
I brush my teeth, wash my face, pull out a towel to hang on the rack beside the tub.
The shower is across the bathroom, beside the vanity and sink.
The toilet is in the middle, giving him something to sit on while he watches, if he truly does plan on watching.
Right now, he’s standing in the doorway and I’m pretending I don’t notice him with his eyes glued to me. He’s taking in every inch of me as I’m bent over the sink to brush my teeth.
The tub is halfway full when I’m finished, so I turn to face Tage, hook my thumbs into my briefs, and slowly push them down. His eyes stay on me, but I can see how forced it is. He wants to look, but kudos to him, he doesn’t.
Smiling to myself, I carefully get into the tub, hissing when my foot is fully submerged in the water. It’s hotter than is tolerable, so I take a moment to adjust and change the water setting to slightly cooler before easing the rest of my body down.
I sigh as I settle in, the water coming up to my waist. It’s a deep tub, so it still has a long way to go. When I open my eyes, I find Tage sitting on the toilet—lid closed, of course—watching me with a strange look.
“So,” I say just loud enough for him to hear over the rushing water. “How far into this role playing are we getting?”
He leans back, clasping his hands together. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering if asking you to wash me is pushing my luck.”
He blinks slowly but says nothing.
A slow smile forms on my face, and I look away, sinking deeper into the water and closing my eyes.
I should do this more often at home, but I just don’t have the time. My morning routine is strict, and by the time I get home, all I want to do is sleep.
Wake. Repeat.
Traveling is when I pamper myself. It happens often, but not often enough.
I’m not sure how much time passes, the heat of the water encompassing me like a blanket, getting higher and higher until it’s up to my neck. I should turn it off, but I’m just so comfortable.
But then it stops, and it goes quiet.
My eyes open, blurry at first, but I blink a few times and it clears.
Tage is sitting on the edge of the tub with his sleeves rolled up and his hand halfway to the water with a washcloth.
I watch as he dunks it, pours body wash on it, then dunks it again.
I don’t say a word, and neither does he as he moves closer and gets to his knees.
He runs the cloth along my chest and over my shoulder.
Then the other. The water is so high that the bodywash won’t stand a chance against it because his hand keeps dipping inside, but this isn’t about being clean.
Clearly.
His gaze stays on his hand and the part of my body he’s washing. My gaze stays on his face, waiting for the briefest change in that stone expression of his.
Every touch is meticulous, as if he’s done this hundreds of times before. It makes me wonder if he has… and why. Does he have a child I don’t know about? Younger siblings? Parents he had to take care of? A washing kink? I want to ask, but it’ll break the moment, so I let it be.
When he’s finished with my upper body, he squeezes the cloth out, rests it on the end of the tub, and carefully slips off his shirt. I wish he’d remove the undershirt too, but I take what I can get.
He applies more body wash to the cloth, though we both know it’s only for show at this point, then dunks it back into the water and moves to my thighs. Each stroke goes higher. He brushes my cock a few times, but I can tell this isn’t supposed to be sexual.
Well, it is, but in a more intimate way. This isn’t about fucking; it’s about something more that doesn’t make sense when it comes to him. I just let him do his thing because this does feel really fucking good, despite not knowing what it means or what it’ll lead to.
He washes every part of my body that is accessible to him in this position, then sits on the far edge of the tub and leans against the wall, watching me.
“The offer to come in still stands,” I say.
“I’m enjoying the view.”
“Is that so?”
His teeth sink into the corner of his lip, and he nods slowly. My gaze goes to his pants, and I see the outline of his cock, but can tell it isn’t fully erect. It’s much bigger than what’s showing right now.
“Tell me about that night at the bar,” I say.
“What about it?” His voice is low, calm.
“Did you know who I was?”
“I already told you I didn’t.”
“Were you lying?”
“No,” he says firmly. “I’ve never lied to you.”
That saves me a bunch of questions, I guess.
“Okay, why did you approach me?”
“Because I knew you were rich, and rich men are easy to fuck.”
“So, you just wanted to get fucked that night, Tage?” I ask.
I see the slight stutter in his breath and the way that outline of his dick grows a little.
“Yes.”
“That’s hot. Really fucking hot.”
My own cock twitches, growing hard.
For him.
“But what am I supposed to do now?” he asks.
“About what?”
Shrugging a shoulder, he says, “We’re not in a bar.”
Is he asking me to fuck him… without asking me to fuck him?
“You could just say it, Tage. Your words go far when it comes to me.”
He holds my gaze, and his words are confident when he speaks.
Confident but almost mischievous, like he’s toying with me.
Maybe just teasing.
“So, what you’re saying is, if I wanted you to fuck me again, I could just ask?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
My dick aches, my body on fire as I stare him deep in the eyes.
Nodding, he carefully gets up. I watch him intently, waiting for those words to leave his lips. He turns to look at me, leaning down a little and lowering his voice.
“Thanks for letting me know that.”
Then he leaves.