Page 12 of Blurred Lines

The one forbidding the PA to the CEO from wearing panties? Yes, I’d gotten it. I nodded.

“And did you follow the rules? Or do I have to discipline you?”

“I followed the rules.”

Although a part of me wished I hadn’t. What would the crack of Mr. Hotly’s hand on my ass feel like? I took a seat as instructed, and my legs parted as he lifted my feet onto his thighs. Strong hands inched my skirt up, silk over sweaty skin, and I held my breath, waiting. Would he appreciate my little surprise?

I knew the moment he saw it. His smouldering gaze rose to meet mine, and he licked his lips.

“Thank you for the gift certificate, sir.”

When I turned twenty-six last week, he’d bought me a five-hundred-dollar spa voucher. I’d never had a Brazilian wax before, and having every hair ripped out had stung like hell, but I’d wanted to thank him for his generosity.

“It was worth every cent.”

My back arched as he buried his face between my legs, and I had to bite my lip when he slowly licked me, paying particular attention to my clit, circling that tight bud with the tip of his tongue as I moaned. My spike heels dug into his thighs, but when I tried to move them to somewhere more comfortable, he held me still.

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“Your mouth is for my cock, Lauren, not for making pointless protests.”

“Then give it to me. Let me taste you.”

“Not yet. You’re honey and lust and about to be fucked.”

On his desk? But he had a meeting at—

“Lauren, how spicy do you like your tacos?” Theo called through the living room doorway.

Damn. Train of thought: lost.

“Uh, medium spicy? A bit of a kick, but not enough to blow my head off.”

Theo had taken over the kitchen again. Mulberry Lodge was bigger than his apartment, so he’d stayed with me last night, and today, he’d borrowed my dining room to work, spreading his papers out on the table along with two laptops and endless cups of black coffee. I’d cleared a drawer and some closet space for him, bought his favourite brand of coffee beans, and given him a key along with strict instructions to arm the security system every time he left. I needed to stay safe. The messages from Mario were arriving daily now, mostly to my phone but also to my social media accounts. And while the photos might have been gross, the words creeped me out more. The crude suggestions were becoming increasingly personal. Mario had clearly read all of my books, and now he’d begun inserting my face into porn scenes reminiscent of paragraphs I’d written. Me on my knees in front of a leather-clad biker. Me riding a sexy cowboy in a pile of hay. Me joining the mile-high club with the pilot of a private jet.

Alexa said Mario was using deepfake AI software, but so far, she’d only managed to track him as far as LA. He was close, but I didn’t know who he was. Or where. He could be a former colleague, or a neighbour, or even someone I considered a friend. The thought made me sick.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” Theo announced.

“I’ll set the table.”

I tucked my laptop back into its case and headed into the kitchen to get plates and napkins. And cutlery, because Theo liked to eat his tacos with a knife and fork.

“Actually, make it ten minutes. Mind if I do my laundry here?”

“You know where the laundry soap is?”

“I found it under the sink. Do you have anything else that needs to go into the hamper?”

So, this was what a relationship was like. Splitting chores, sharing space, learning more about each other’s likes and dislikes. Vi said that for her, the change had been natural, like putting on a pair of new shoes and finding out they fit perfectly, no pinched toes or rubbed heels. She and Dawson had just clicked. Me? I was still at the walking-around-in-the-store stage. Having a man in my home felt weird. How was I meant to get Theo to put the toilet seat down? Should I keep reminding him? Make a cute little sign? Or simply carry on doing it myself and hope he eventually got the hint? And what about changing the toilet roll? The one time he’d managed that particular task, he’d hung the paper down the back, which was sacrilegious.

“No, nothing else for the hamper.”

“Where’s the clothes dryer? I couldn’t find it.”

“I don’t have a clothes dryer. If I need to wear things in a hurry, I hang them on the radiator.”

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