Billionaire Novelist 1 : Working for the Billionaire Novelist(5)

"Mom! I can take care of myself."

"Of course. That's not what I meant."

"It's still interesting work, Mom. And I'm having fun. It's nice out here in the country and I had a little jog today."

"Tori, be a dear and give me the initials of her name, just so I can imagine."

"Um, some of the letters in her name are C and J," I said. It hurt me to lie to my mother, but I was sworn to secrecy. If it had been anyone else, I would have told her, Non-Disclosure Agreement be damned, but it was Smith Wittingham. My mother was in a book club dedicated to Smith Wittingham's books. Asking her to keep that secret would be cruel and unusual punishment.

As we chatted, with her filling me in on all the adorable things my cousin's baby girl did that day, I stretched the phone's long, curly cord to its limit and raided the kitchen. My meals were included in the contract, but I didn't know which of the portions in the fridge were mine. I didn't want to upset Smith, so I perused all the pre-packaged meals and sampled a small portion from four of them.

The food wasn't bad at all. The typing and the fresh air really had inspired my appetite, and I had to go back for seconds.

After dinner, I stayed in my bedroom. We didn't have internet at the cabin, but there was TV, so at least I wasn't going to die of boredom. I heard Smith shuffling down the stairs and rummaging around in the kitchen, but I didn't go out to talk to him. I wanted to maintain some boundaries, some separation from him, and keeping to myself in my room seemed like the best way.

My room got chilly that evening after the sun went down-summer nights in the mountains were cool. I crawled under my sheets in my nightshirt and closed my eyes. With my eyes shut, my other senses screamed at me that I was not at home. The sheets felt nubby and foreign, and the sounds were all wrong.

I could hear Smith, moving around upstairs. The cabin had good soundproofing, but there was a squeak, and a tap. As I listened, the tap kept going, keeping up a rhythm. Was that his bed? Was he pleasuring himself?

I reached under my nightshirt and pinched my already-firm ni**les. Electricity shot down to my pu**y instantly. I rolled onto my stomach, one hand down in my panties, and thrust against the firm mattress. 

The tapping from upstairs kept going.

All I had to do was go up there, go up those stairs, and offer some excuse. There I'd be, the young college graduate, in nothing but her thin nightshirt. Wasn't that exactly what he wanted? Was I really just there to type?

I rolled onto my back and thought it through. He definitely planned to seduce me, but he probably wanted to draw the tension out, then pick some dramatic moment-something that would fit into his story. His detective would protect his client Sheri from danger, and they'd bone each other senseless in a dirty alley somewhere, smoke still emanating from his spent pistol.

I wasn't Sheri, though. Nowadays, I made my own decisions about who I slept with, rather than letting it just happen. What if I turned the tables on him? What if I seduced him? On our very first night?

I jumped out of bed, flicked on a lamp, and rummaged through the clothes I'd brought. Nothing was any better than the nightshirt I had on, which showed off my firm br**sts and youth. One of my professors was always talking about young, nubile flesh-so much, that I'd started to see myself and my friends the way older men saw us. Any girl at nineteen or twenty was attractive, even the ones who didn't think they were.

I freshened up in the bathroom and switched out my underwear for a black pair of lacy panties, the black showing through my white shirt.

My body was aching to be touched, my pu**y already swelling at the thought. What if he turned me down?

No, Tori, don't think that way. We were alone at a cabin for two weeks. He and I both knew we were going to sleep together, and this way was better. We could get started immediately. Oh, the things we could do to each other over the next two weeks.

My body tingled with adrenaline, so much that I could barely feel the bottoms of my feet on the stairs as I crept up. I knocked on his bedroom door, which was closed, with a bit of light showing around the edges.

He called out, "Who is it?"

"Killer moose. I'm looking for Tori."

"Down the stairs, first door on your right."

I put my hand to my chin and leaned against the wall. That did not go as planned.

I knocked again.

He called out, "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading a book. You should try it sometime."

Well, now he was just being insulting. I shook my head, embarrassed for being so stupid, and started to walk away.

He opened the door, splashing light out into the hallway. His voice deep and sexy, he said, "Can't sleep?"

I turned around, feeling silly in my thin nightshirt. My hard ni**les poked out like traffic cones.