Page 44 of Tame Me

I’ll be in penthouse number 49, any time from five o’clock.

XXXOOO your suave tutor.’

I folded the note back over, held it to my chest, and skipped to my bed, giggling.

Could this day get any better?

Hell, yes, it could—come five o’clock, I was set for another fabulous evening. I tugged my PJs out from under my pillow and put them on.

Turning onto my side, I re-read Henry’s note twice. Smiling, I placed it onto my spare pillow, and with an abundance of images of my suave tutor flicking across my brain, I drifted off to sleep.

My alarm sounded, and yawning, I rolled over and shut off Adele’s song on the radio. I curled off the bed and pulled my blinds aside to see what the weather was doing. It was another beautiful evening in paradise. I opened my glass door, stepped onto the balcony, and inhaled the crisp ocean air.

Hundreds of people were on the beach, taking in the last of the spring sunshine. The lifesaver flags were still out, and at least fifty people were enjoying the tumbling waves. I placed my hands on the railing, closed my eyes, and breathed in nice and deep.

A wonderful sense of calm enveloped me with each breath and the crashing waves were a beautiful melody that enhanced my feeling of peacefulness.

After five or so minutes, I went inside, and as I showered, I turned my attention to Henry and his promise of another lesson. By the time I stood naked at my closet, my insides purred at the prospect of spending more time with my suave tutor.

I tugged my long red dress from the rack. When I’d tried on this dress while shopping with Lolita, all I’d been able to think of was Henry. This dress was for him. It was impossible to wear a bra with it, and so, for something a little cheeky, I decided not to wear panties either. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to that.

I slipped the dress over my head, and the heavy fabric draped down my body and fell to my feet. The dress had thin spaghetti straps that met with a section of fabric that covered my breasts and remained open all the way down to the encased elastic at the waist. It was backless and the straps over my shoulder were joined to the waistline. A long split came up from my ankle and stopped high on my thigh, ensuring each step was a game of peek-a-boo with my right leg.

For my shoes, I chose my new pair of gold Lesina evening stilettos. They had devilishly high heels and a series of gold straps that curled from beside my big toe and crisscrossed perfectly up my foot. These shoes were the epitome of sexy, and when I’d tried them on, I’d had no idea that one of the sexiest men on the planet would be the first to see them.

He was certainly the man who’d appreciate shoes like these.

Using the gold for inspiration, I added long, dangly gold earrings and a chunky gold bracelet. By the time I inspected my outfit in the mirror, I not only looked sexy, but I felt sexy too. I, Jane Nichols, was at the top of my game, and it was so empowering to finally acknowledge that.

With a genuine smile on my face, I grabbed my bag and headed up to see one of the men in my life who was also at the top of his game. I stepped from the elevator, and my boobs wobbled as I strode along the ninth-floor corridor. Once upon a time, this would have distressed me. Not now, though—it just added to the sexy vibes coursing through my body.

I knocked on Henry’s door and only had to wait a couple of heartbeats before he opened it. His eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped. “Wow. You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

He leaned over, and our lips met for the briefest of kisses. But it was a kiss that said so much more—I trust, I want, I need, and maybe, just maybe . . . I love. He smelled divine and every bit the masculine, sexy man he was.

He curled his hand around my back and guided me into the room. “I took the liberty of opening a bottle of champagne.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

He led me to the spiral staircase, and as I lifted the hem of my skirt to walk up it, I wondered if he would grab my bottom like he had last time. Halfway up, he did. “Hey.” I giggled and glanced down at him.

“What?” He acted as if he’d done nothing.

I liked this cheeky ritual we’d started.

At the top of the stairs, we stepped into the glassed-in area, and he crossed the room and opened the door to the rooftop terrace. He’d positioned two deckchairs to take in the view, and nestled between them was a cheese platter and a couple of candles with flames dancing in the slight breeze.

Henry was the master of romantic settings.

I sat in one of the deckchairs and shared my gaze between the magnificent view and the magnificent specimen of a man pouring my drink. Henry wore a black-and-white checkered button-up shirt, and over the top of that, he had on a black vest. He was stylish and debonair, and not for the first time, I thought Henry would be perfectly comfortable sitting right alongside George Clooney.

He had an interesting expression on his face like he was on the verge of smiling but was trying desperately to hold it back. The more I watched him, the more I realized he was withholding something.

Am I finally going to have sex with my suave tutor?

Chapter Thirteen

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