Page 93 of Blindside Sinner

I’m not ashamed that I have a hard-on. Don’t care that she can see it. And she does. She stares for a full ten seconds before she yelps out, “Oh my God. What did I just do?”

Came like a goddessprobably isn’t the answer she’s looking for but it’s the one that comes to mind. Still, I keep it to myself. “Nothing. You did nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

“Okay, you had a screaming orgasm.” I shrug. “No big deal.”

“No big deal? It’s a very fucking big—My contract…” She shakes her head, eyes wide. “For fuck’s sake, Beck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Look, angel, we didn’t have sex.” I shrug like I didn’t just have my fingers inside her and it wasn’t in-fucking-credible.

“That’s a pretty fine fucking line in the sand you’re drawing!”

I roll off my side of the bed and stand. My dick is still standing at attention. She looks again and I smirk. “I’m going to shower. Did you want to join me?”

She grunts in frustration and runs out of the room, taking my blanket with her. I sigh, then go take a shower. It takes me about five pumps before I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

But even when I’m empty, the hunger remains.

46

SLOAN

She knows.

I swear to God that Vivian knows what I’ve done. It’s like the second Beck and I crossed that line, an alarm bell went off in her head. Almost as soon as I was out of his bed, the phone rang and she demanded a meeting.

I ran out of the room before I took the call. Not that it was much of a conversation. Viv said five words in total:Meeting. My office. One hour.

CLICK.

Since then, I haven’t even talked to Beck, or had a single minute to overthink what happened between us. The stupid thing we did.

But oh my, that stupid thing was…

No.It was only intense because it’s been so long. For both of us. He hasn’t brought a woman home since… that first week I started working for him, I think. And I haven’t had a man in my bed since long before that.

Plus, we spend so much time together, this was probably inevitable. Of course, standing under the shower spray rationalizing the whole thing is a big waste of time. I need to stop thinking about it. I can’t let Viv see on my face that something has happened, that I broke the terms of the contract.

Which is exactly what I did and there’s no way to sugar coat it.

Even Beck’s “but we didn’t have sex” won’t work. My contract saysno sexual contact. I’m pretty dang sure that includes being mostly naked in his bed with his hands doing?—

Stop it, Sloan.

But not thinking about it doesn’t negate that I broke the contract. The main thing here is that I can’t afford to let Viv find out. All else is secondary. Because if I lose this job, then the Bloodhound might just make sure I lose my life.

I step out of the shower and dry off, but I can still smell Beck’s cologne on my skin. I don’t have time to rewash. I’ll just have to take shallow breaths, not think about him or the morning.

It’s not a great plan, but it’s the only one I have.

By the time I’m dressed and ready, I’ve worked out a plan to pretend nothing has happened. I can lie to myself. I’ve done it for years. I’m a consummate pro.

I leave with enough time to spare for traffic, of which there is precisely none, so I’m early when I get to her office downtown. She’s “in another meeting,” according to her assistant who looks at me with what I can swear is disappointment in what I’ve done.

So I sit outside her office and watch the time of our appointment come and go. Another hour follows it before she finally calls me in.

She holds the door open to let me pass. I could swear she sniffs me as I walk past before she shuts the door. I take one of the chairs across from her desk as she moves around to sit in her throne.

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