Page 42 of Unleashed

He laughed, leaning against the counter. “Go ahead.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “I need some privacy.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re afraid to let me see you pee?”

“We’re not married,” I said with a teasing grin. “It’s too...familiar.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He threw his washcloth in the hamper, tucked himself back into his pants, and winked as he left. “Down the hall and make a right.”

Once he was gone, I finished cleaning up and fixed my hair, my footsteps echoing on the wooden floors as I made my way to the kitchen. It was a chef’s dream—commercial-grade stainless steel appliances, pristine white counters, and sleek gray cabinets. A wall of glass framed the view of the deep blue pool and the ocean just beyond.

Slade stood by the counter, sipping from a bottle of Perrier. When he saw me, a wide smile spread across his face. “You’re glowing.”

I smirked. “It must be the aftereffects of sex.”

“Whatever it is, it suits you.” He held up the bottle. “Want something to drink?”

“Do you have more Perrier? I like it with a twist of lime.”

“Coming right up.” He retrieved an etched crystal tumbler from the cabinet and set to work cutting up a lime. Moments later, he slid the drink toward me with a flourish. “As you requested, madam.”

I took a sip, the cool liquid refreshing against my lips. “This place is gorgeous.”

Slade leaned against the counter, watching me closely. “Are we sharing a bedroom?”

"Why would you ask that?" I shot him a wary glance, unsure where this conversation was heading.

Slade's voice softened, yet there was a persistent edge. "I just want to make sure. You can have your own room if you like. This place has six bedrooms and eight baths, so...plenty of space."

I sighed, frustration creeping in. "Slade, I like you. Stop pushing the issue."

He leaned forward, his eyes intent. "I want you to love me."

I stiffened. "I'm not that kind of girl. I don’t fall so quickly. I’m sorry."

A flicker of determination crossed his face as he stepped closer. "You can’t help how you feel. I just want to know that I have a chance."

My heart pounded, caught between the pressure and the truth. "You do," I admitted, meeting his gaze, "more than a chance."

His tension eased, and he smiled, his hand reaching for mine. "Good. Would you like a tour now?"

"Yes, please."

Slade came around the counter, his hand warm as he took mine and helped me up. He led me out of the kitchen and up a grand curved wooden staircase, our footsteps echoing softly. The hallway stretched long and elegant, a colorful runner lining the polished hardwood floors. Every door we passed, he opened with a casual flick of the wrist—bedrooms, bathrooms, each one as beautifully decorated as the last.

At the end of the hall, he stopped in front of a door, turning to me with a knowing smile. "This is my bedroom. I hope you'll like it."

He turned the brass handle and pushed the door open, revealing a room twice the size of the others. A large four-poster bed, dark wood with a padded headboard, dominated the space, flanked by matching chunky nightstands with ceramic lamps. The furniture was tasteful, but the size of the room made everything else seem small.

I stepped inside, taking it all in. Slade watched me carefully as he led me deeper into the room. A dresser, armoire, and a sleek TV sat against the far wall, but my attention was drawn to the double-curved chaise near the windows. A plush cream-colored rug stretched out from beneath the bed, inviting. I kicked off my sandals, letting my toes sink into its softness.

"Nice," I murmured, rubbing my feet against the luxurious fabric. "Very soft."

Slade's breath was suddenly at my ear, his voice low. "I'd like to fuck you on it one of these nights."

I froze, caught off guard, then turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Why? When you have a perfectly comfortable bed?"

He grinned, unrepentant. "Because it’s more fun to do it in different places."

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