Page 51 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

My employer.

Shit.

Is this the worst idea ever?

Have I lost my mind?

Telling him that I’m on the pill while his children are eating breakfast in the same room?

He must think I’m a total tramp.

I must be having an allergic reaction to his pheromones.

Maybe we should wait a few months, until I’m not working for him anymore.

I’ve waited this long. A few months of getting to know each other better as friends could only make it better when we finally…what? Bone each other a couple of times and then he’s off to do a movie with the girl fromTwilight? Or Hermione? Because what actor wouldn’t rather be with them?

I let the minivan in the next lane get in ahead of me.

By the time I’ve turned onto Shane’s driveway, I have convinced myself that I should just tell him we need to chill.

By the time I’ve parked the Volvo in the garage, I am thinking it would be a good idea to tell him that it mayhave been a mistake, what happened last night, but it was my fault.

By the time I’ve opened the door to the house, I am sure of it.

But as soon as I step inside, Shane’s arm is around my waist and he’s pulling me to him.

“Fucking hell, I’ve been dying for you, Willa.”

My eyelids instinctively close and my hands reach for his face.

He breathes in the skin of my neck, massaging my hips, sliding his hands up and down my waist. His hands, oh God, his hands. He touches me like he owns me, and I want to give him everything.

His hair is damp, and he’s wearing an unbuttoned shirt and jeans. I’m pressed up against his warm, bare chest. This is heaven.

I’m smelling cologne on him for the first time. Dear God, it’s a Giorgio Armani absolu. Top notes—bergamot, marine notes, something fruity. Middle notes—hints of lavender and rosemary. Base notes—oh fuck it, he smells hot. He just smells hot. I want to eat him up.

I pull my head back so I can see his handsome face. His eyes are hooded, blue like the late-afternoon sea, his jaw tense. So serious.Don’t even joke about that.I tilt my head up to press my lips against his, a half-kiss. Savoring this calm before the storm of our bodies crashing against each other.

He rests his forehead against mine, hands up in my hair, slowly exploring my breasts, my waist, my hips. “Beautiful girl, what have you done to me?” His hands cup my face. He smooths his thumb across my bottom lip, and I suck it into my mouth, moaning and watching him as I do.

Heat flashes in his eyes. He licks his lips. Makes a deep, guttural sound, like a shot fired, and the race to do as much to each other’s bodies as we can begins.

I pull his shirt down off his shoulders, running my hands down the smooth, toned muscles of his arms. He tosses the shirt to the floor and pushes me against the wall, kissing me hard on the mouth, practically growling, and then dropping to his knees and disappearing under my dress.

Oh sweet Jesus, he tugs my panties down. I feel his thumb brush up against my clit, and then he grabs hold of my ass, slides one hand down the back of one thigh, hiking my leg up over his shoulder. He licks and then bites the flesh of my inner thigh and proceeds to do all of the amazing things he did last night to my lady parts with his fingers—with his tongue this time.

I cannot do any penis things to him from this position.

My eyes roll back inside my head. “Oh, shit.” I melt into the wall, into his hands, into his tongue. His flicking, circling, sweeping tongue. His gentle, punishing, determined tongue. I’m whimpering and floating up and caving in on myself. My hands slap against the wall, trying to find some leverage, bracing myself. And now his fingers get in on the action too.

“Shane. Oh my God. How many of you are down there?”

He answers by moaning, pushing his fingers up to my hips and pulsing his tongue in and out and in and out. My entire being is struck by a hot jolt of electricity, and then my hips follow his rhythm, warmth radiating up and out from my center and back to where his tongue penetrates me. It feels too good. I scream out hisname and then cover my mouth because I’m making such loud noises.

“I want to hear you,” he says from under my dress. “I want to hear you come.”

I uncover my mouth and whimper. I squeeze my thighs together, wriggling away from him. It has to stop. It’s too much. I’ve never ever gotten enough from a guy, but this feels like so much more than my body can handle and it’s just the beginning.