Page 19 of Flown in for Christmas

I laugh. “I was already there.” I walk toward him, sliding past to get my toiletry bag and pajamas to change into after a long, hot shower.

I’m busy digging through my bag when Nick asks, “What about your parents? Are they still in California?”

“My mom lives in Napa with her new husband and twin daughters,” I say, glancing up to see the cringe on his face. “Dad moved to New York to lead some fancy law firm after the divorce.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “They tried. I had a good childhood. I suppose that’s all anyone can ask for these days.” He nods as I pass him again,my breasts brushing against his abdomen. My face heats at the contact—and size difference.

If I wasn’t so tired, I’d already have a forbidden boss-employee fantasy running through my head. “I’ll, um, try to be quick,” I say, blushing as I scurry to the bathroom.

About that fantasy…

Nine.

Nick

This may have startedas a ploy over rights to a family heirloom, but it’s already crossing a line I’m not sure we can come back from.

My heart kicks up a notch at the sound of the shower turning on.My fiancée, I test it, repeating it over and over in my mind. She’ll be by my side for days straight. We’ll be in constant contact between showing affection and…sharing this space.

My cock weeps at the very premise of sharing my bed with her. Is that too far? Will she draw the line somewhere? My guilty conscience starts to weigh on me as I spare a glance toward the loveseat beneath the windowsill. It’d be cold sleeping there, that’s for sure, but it’d be the gentlemanly thing to do, right?

We’re both adults, I reason as a bottle of lotion sitting beside the sofa catches my eye. I grab it, tossing it in a drawer in my closet. It’s not exactly sexy, late-night conversation if I have to explain how my feet crack in the winter months.

I should probably ask her if she’s comfortable sharing a bed before I start thinking with my dick. I scan the room one more time to make sure there isn’t anything that could embarrass me when the sound of the shower turning off has my stomach fluttering—the same way it did when we kissed in the foyer.

Butterflies,again? I don’tgetbutterflies. Yet, when it comes to her, I can’t seem to stop the feeling. She’s…perfect.

For this job, I add.

Because this is one giant ruse andnota sappyHallmarkmovie.

While I wait for her to exit the bathroom, I look through my luggage, trying to decide what’s best to wear to bed. Scolding myself for not packing more. I usually sleep in just a pair of loose shorts. I run too hot at night to wear anything else.

I pull out a pair of grey sweatpants and immediately put them back. Too bold.Stick with what’s comfortable.She won’t care, will she?

Why the hell doIcare?

I turn with my sleeping shorts in hand only to bump into Joy coming into the closet. “Sorry,” she yelps, taking a step back and giving me an all too pleasing view of her wearing an oversized T-shirt—no bra, I note—and what appears to be nothing else.

I swallow hard.

“Just wanted to drop these in here,” she says with a forced laugh, raising the folded bundle of dirty clothes in hand. “Bathroom is all yours.”

“Thanks.” I nod, moving past her and heading straight for what I deserve…an ice-cold shower. Unfortunately, it doesn’t save my wandering mind from straying to thoughts of Joy wearing only a T-shirt to bed. Surely, she has something on underneath? Panties? Shorts? Shorts withnopanties?

I groan, leaning my head against the tiled shower wall. My cock thickens at the very thought of my fake fiancée laying in my bed in only a T-shirt and panties.

If only it was my shirt…

With that last image in mind, I grip my cock in one hand and brace the other against the wall as warm water pelts my neck and shoulders. I stroke myself from base to tip, biting back a groan. I close my eyes, falling into the fantasy of my hand replaced with hers—of her kissing and nipping at my neck as she guides me into her hot, wet pussy.

The visual causes me to jerk my hips into my fist. I come with a shudder a moment later and my shoulders drop. I shake my head. I haven’t come that fast since puberty. And to the thought of my fake-fiancée-real-assistant. I still have to face her and sleep in the same room.

I finish getting ready for bed. Leaving my chest bare and wearing only my sleep shorts. I take a deep breath and open the door, turning off the light as I walk out. The room is darkaside from the dim glow coming from the built-in lighting over the nightstands and I see she’s claimed my usual side—the right.

She’s tucked under the covers, her damp, brown hair cascading over my pillow. She doesn’t move as I approach. Is she…already asleep? I walk around to the far side of the bed, turning off the lights before I lift the covers to slide in. Waiting to see if she’ll move or say something—protest that I’ve suddenly decided to sleep with her rather than offer to sleep on the cramped sofa.

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