Page 7 of Good Girls Like it Dirty
Am I being paranoid?
The night had ended a lot differently from what she imagined when she’d made out with Zaine in the bathroom. Perhaps it’s for the best. She had left the mansion immediately, and didn’t think he knew her phone number. Miss Ashley probably had it, which, of course, didn’t prevent her from checking her phone every ten minutes to make sure Zaine hadn’t miraculously texted her.
The doorbell rang, pulling her from her reverie. Sighing, she got off the couch and headed for the entrance. Maybe one of her roomies had ordered pizza again.
She opened the door, and what she found on the other side of the threshold left her weak in the knees: Zaine Cavanaugh, in the flesh, and as sexy as ever. Moisture evaporated from her throat. How did he get her address?
“Zaine.” Her heart skipped a beat. She hated how a part of her wanted to jump in his arms. Sure, she had been to blame for what had happened at Paula’s…but if she were smart, she’d avoid an affair with him at all costs. No good would come from hooking up with him—besides unforgettable orgasms. “What are you doing here?”
He inched closer. “I have a proposition for you.”
She partially closed the door, to make sure he wouldn’t come inside.
He smiled, and a fire flared at the pit of her stomach. “May I come in?”
“No.”
He leaned in closer, and she knew she should move or shut the door in his face. He wanted a booty call, a quick hookup, a good old fuck. All of those things sounded great, but in reality he was in a complicated situation. Legally separated? Yes. Divorced? No. Besides, in what world would he ever take her as a girlfriend if they became close? He’d never ditch his snobby friends to go out with the much younger maid who didn’t fit in with his crowd.
“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry. I didn’t have your address or number last night, or I’d have been at your doorstep then,” he said, staring deep in her eyes.
A warm energy passed between them, and she swallowed the dry lump lodged in her throat. An invisible band squeezed them together, and she couldn’t will herself to step away from him. Didn’t want to.
“Thanks,” she said.
He closed the gap between them and snatched her into his arms. He captured her lips in a demanding kiss, one she couldn’t resist. Embracing her, he pressed the small of her back until every part of her magically molded to him. She opened her mouth to give him more access, but also because she enjoyed the tingles teasing her breasts, the heat radiating from her chest.
He weaned her off with small kisses, his lips brushing against her as her head bobbed, dizzy with arousal. If she didn’t share a room with Nicole, she’d invite him in. She’d give anything to see the girls’ faces when this sexy man entered their crummy living room.
“Are you sure you don’t want to hear me out?”
“Fine, but only because I’m curious,” she said to save face, but the delightful sigh fleeing from her lips betrayed her.
The polite thing to do was to invite him in, but she didn’t want her roommates ogling him and asking questions. Worse, she didn’t want to explain who he was. One glance at him and they’d assume he had money. Besides, if he wanted to talk…
He stepped back to give her room, and she exited the apartment and closed the door behind her. She’d been wearing old jeans and a T-shirt, and now she wished she had bothered with putting a bra on. Damn it.
She went down the stairs and could feel his presence behind her. Where can we talk? Some tenants walked their dogs or gathered in the parking lot, probably making plans for the night. Shit. It’s not like she had a conference room, but getting into his car would give him more control.
“Come,” she said, using her key to open the laundry room.
She entered, and thankfully the space filled with washers and driers was empty. At that time of the day, the young crowd preferred going out to washing clothes. “What is it?” she said, closing the door behind him.
Why did he want to see her? As much as she wanted to keep her pride, she needed the money if she could keep working for him. And with clients that had already fired her ass, she couldn’t afford to take the high road.
The smell of bleach, detergent, and dirty socks filled the air. She leaned against a washer, trying to give them enough buffer zone. He stood in the middle of the room, his hotness contrasting majestically against the crappy setting. The uncomfortable fluorescent light flickered, each time outlining his large frame and straight posture.
Her nipples hardened, and she folded her arms to hide her reaction to him.
“I have a deal for you. It may seem crazy at first, but when you stop to think, you’ll see it’s a pretty good one.”
She swallowed. “What do you want, Monsieur?”
“You, in my bed, for the next two months.”
