“Bale?”
Still holding the water, she went into her bedroom, the screen shifting to show her entire room, where she began stripping off her wet clothes, leaving them on the tiles in her en suite and stepping into the shower.
“Bale?”
“What?!”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I assumed you’d have more—”
Fuck this.
I hung up and silenced my phone, sliding even closer to my desk to get a better view of the screens.
She stood under the spray, the hot water steaming up the glass, soaking her hair, washing her skin.
Giving me the perfect view of her beautiful, naked body.
Three weeks had passed since I’d inhaled her scent.
Since I’d devoured her.
Since I’d left that gorgeous woman in Jacob’s bed with a note on the pillow.
From my new location—an eight-hour flight from Pepper’s home in Miami—I witnessed as she returned to her house after the night we’d spent together, wearing the same dress I’d taken off her on the island in the kitchen.
I saw the tears drip from her eyes as she rushed into her home office.
The frustration in her expression when her fingers pounded on the keyboard.
The hours she spent at that desk, on her computer, researching my file, looking up my address, trying to locate me online.
She quickly learned I didn’t exist.
Bale Pierce was just a front.
A name I used for business.
But Bale was a ghost, wandering from job to job, city to city.
If you saw me once, the chances were that you would never see me again.
And that was the case with Pepper.
But, goddamn it, I’d just had to taste her before I left.
I had to savor her.
I had to satisfy my cravings.
Hell, I’d earned that after the three months of nonstop taunting.
Teasing.
Goading she’d put me through.
I’d never been so fucking turned on by a woman before. I’d never seen anyone respond to me the way she had, watching my video feed on repeat while I was denying another woman an orgasm, edging her to the brink of destruction, like I was a porn star.
I’d certainly never experienced intimacy on the level that I’d shared with Pepper.