I swallow hard, trying to maintain a semblance of control. “I can take care of myself,” I reply, though my voice betrays a hint of breathlessness.

Then, he leans in, his hand still cradling my face, and whispers against my ear. The sweet heat of his breath ignites a slow, searing burn within me, causing me to tremble with desire. “There are many things you can do on your own, but I promise there are some things that feel better when someone does them for you… or to you.”

The proximity, the husky timbre of his voice, and the implication of his words dangle in front of me like my favorite dessert, leaving me momentarily lost in the intoxicating sweetness of his pull and the promise of what his care means.

With his entire being threatening to undo me and my body willing to, I look into his eyes and attempt to mask my inexperience with a veneer of confidence, which is flimsy at best. “Maybe we can discuss this tomorrow evening… over wine and whiskey. And maybe the many nights to follow as well?” I suggest, my voice tinged with a dare.

A devilish smile spreads across his lips, lighting up his handsome face in a way that’s both thrilling and forbidden. “Early evening, of course. I’ll try my best to come home at a much more reasonable time.”

Pleased by his commitment, I nod in approval. “It’s a date then. Goodnight, Vic.”

I allow myself a moment of boldness and slide past him, making sure my body brushes against him. I feel the very hard reality of him beneath his clothes, then slowly saunter to my room, as bubbly, light-headed, and confused as ever.

When I’m finally sprawled on my bed, heart racing and mind spinning, I open my nightstand drawer only to be hit with a wave of disappointment.

I left my damn vibrator at home.

So much for ending my night on a high note, a sweet come down into a peaceful sleep. Oh well, there will be plenty more wine-filled nights ahead. And maybe, just maybe, one day soon, I’ll find out exactly what Vic meant by taking care of me.

Chapter 12

Googly Eyes – Vic

I’m sitting in my office, casually dressed in an open-collar shirt and jeans, a much different vibe than most know me to give, but I find myself uncharacteristically at ease. Lately, I’ve felt lighter, and my actions have seemed to reflect that as well. Even now, I should be tackling the mound of paperwork on my desk, but instead, I’m doing what I’ve done every morning at 7:00 a.m. for the past two months—starting my day off by listening to the sweet sounds that steady my tense mood and calm my clouded mind.

“Good morning, Mr. Grimes,” Kerry cheerfully greets me through my kitchen camera.