Page 2 of Beauty Touched the Beast (Beauty 1)
She’d never expected to see him like this – practically begging – not for anything, and certainly not for his maid to continue cleaning for him. Did she really vacuum so well?
No, if nothing else, today had shown that he at least thought about her in another way. Is that why he kept her around, why he increased her cleaning schedule and chatted with her about his work? Should she be offended? She wasn’t. She was flattered. And turned on as hell.
She stammered, “I don’t understand. Were you…was I…?”
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “There’s no excuse,” he said, swallowing. “But I will not –” He looked away. The part of his face turned to her was the more scarred half. This gesture more than anything showed his distress since he usually took pains to hide it.
“What can I do so that you will not leave?” he asked.
“I – honestly, I hadn’t even thought of that. Actually, I wanted to apologize. For intruding on your privacy. I’m not going to quit.”
“Thank you.” he said stiffly, whether in acknowledgement of her apology or her agreement she didn’t know. He paused, then repeated, “I’m sorry.”
After a curt nod, he disappeared into his study.
Maybe she should have told him he didn’t have anything to be sorry for, that he hadn’t done anything wrong, after all. But it would be too strange to correct him in his assumption now. What could she say? Please, go ahead and use me in your fantasies. I don’t mind. That would hardly make this less awkward.
Besides, she needed time to think, to process what she had seen him do and her feelings. But she’d just committed not to quit, whatever came of her thoughts.
She cleaned his house as usual. He made himself scarce the rest of the time. His bedroom came last, and she worked quickly, resolutely ignoring the way her panties grew damp as she made his bed.
* * *
Thank God she hadn’t quit, he thought, as he hid in the study.
He’d known she would arrive any minute, and he hadn’t been unable to deflate his erection with a cold shower. He’d had to care of it before she arrived. She couldn’t see his inappropriate desire for her. It would ruin everything. But he’d miscalculated, and badly.
Of all the ways to lose her, that would’ve been the most stupid. Not that he had her, exactly, but seeing her twice a week and getting to talk with her was more than he deserved, and he was damned grateful for it. He chose not to analyze the pathetic factor of that.
It was sleazy of him to use her work to bring him to his house – he’d never h
ad such a clean house in his life – but he could think of no other way to keep her around him. Someone so beautiful and good had no business being around a pissy coward like himself, but damned if he wasn’t selfish enough to force her anyway. Lord knew he had no good looks, no charm, and, as evidenced earlier, no intelligence with which to lure her instead.
The great intellectual, he thought in disgust, thinking with his dick. Not that he didn’t excuse himself to a certain extent – Lord, she was beautiful. Seeing her watching his dick while he came had only inflamed his lust for her, but best not to think on that lest he require a repeat performance. It was bad enough to be scarred and ugly, broken in body and spirit, wasn’t it? Surely he didn’t need to add creepy old exhibitionist to his faults.
Chapter 2
One hour into her next cleaning visit, Erin was getting worried. She’d hoped everything could go back to normal, but Blake still seemed to be avoiding her. He’d made a brief appearance to say hello and that was it. He didn’t sit on the couch as she folded the clothes or lean against the bookshelves while she dusted. He didn’t tell her about what book he was writing, what article he was researching. He didn’t ask about her classes. Nothing like usual.
Today he wore jeans and a button-up shirt. He always went around his house in sweats, the super comfy kind, thin from frequent wearing and washing. He worked from home and almost never ventured outside. Plus, he eschewed such society-imposed discomforts as regular clothes.
She could only assume this new formality was in reaction to the incident from last week. Perhaps he felt violated or unsafe with her, and although she didn’t blame him, she felt horribly guilty.
It didn’t help that she’d had explicit dreams about him and his cock two nights in a row. Dreams where he said those same words, but she was there, naked beside him, doing what he asked. Masturbating to thoughts of each other was a contagious condition, one she’d now caught, she thought dryly.
He ducked out of the kitchen with a glass of water as she entered it. Concerned and exasperated, she decided to confront him.
“Mr. Morris,” she called. When he froze, she softened her voice. “Blake.”
His name hung in the air between them, taunting her with its intimacy.
“I wanted to apologize again for what happened last time,” she explained. “I should have left right away when I saw what you were doing…I was just surprised.”
He looked surprised now, too. He cleared his throat. “Apology accepted.”
He flashed her what was she supposed was a conciliatory smile but looked more like a grimace. And that made her think of what he looked like when he climaxed. Dammit.
She really should shut up now, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I was wondering if you, that is, if you were thinking of me…weren’t you?”
