Page 11 of Devotion

Something changes on his face, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. His tone is as dry as ever when he asks, “You really think that’s going to do it?”

“Yes, I do.” I’m getting excited but trying not to show it on my face or in my voice. “You’ve done nothing but work and sleep and swim for five days. You need to relax, and I can help you do it.”

“I’ve got too much work to do to spend all afternoon relaxing.”

“It doesn’t have to take long. I can handle it quickly. In ten minutes even.”

He stares at me for several seconds, and I wonder if he’s actually considering it.

Maybe he’ll finally let me do my job.

“Ten minutes?” he asks at last.

“Yes. I believe I can take care of matters in that amount of time.” I’m purposefully avoiding any clear reference to sex since that obviously makes him uncomfortable. He likes business, so we can treat this like business too. “It’s obviously your choice. There are social expectations of course, but there’s no pressure about what I do privately as your partner. But I believe I can improve your productivity. I can help you relax and renew your focus. Like I said, it’s up to you, but if I had my preferences, you would allow me to do that.”

There. That sounded pretty good. Quiet and composed and polite while still conveying the point I need to make.

And there’s a new expression twisting on his face. I don’t know him well enough yet to be certain, but I wonder if it might be temptation.

Like he wants to but isn’t sure he should.

“Let me think about it,” he says at last. “I hear what you’re saying, but let me think about it.”

“Of course.” I smile at him and move my sketchbook back onto my lap. “I’ll be here.”

It’s lessthan an hour of restless, frustrated attempts to work and increasingly frequent looks over at me when Gabriel finally blurts out, “You’re sure you want to?”

I straighten up in surprise, setting down my pen and notebook as my heart jumps in excitement. “Yes. I want to. Why would I lie?”

“Okay.”

I blink. “Okay?”

“Ten minutes.”

I stand up, having to exert some effort not to dance a little victory jig. I can’t believe he finally relented from his irrational stubbornness about this.

It’s actually a lot of pressure to get an uptight workaholic to a satisfying physical release in only ten minutes, but I’m sure I can manage it. I’m not going to fail in my one chance to prove what I can do for him.

He’s pushed his chair out from his desk, and he’s staring at me as I approach. “Should I…” He nods toward the bed.

I shake my head. “You can stay in your chair.”

He’s completely motionless now, his eyes moving from my face, down my body, and then up again.

There’s nothing overtly lustful in the look, but it makes my pulse throb anyway.

He’s so tense and stiff that I glance at the clock to mark the time and decide to take three minutes to try to loosen him up first. I move around to his back and start massaging his shoulders. His muscles are ridiculously tight, and it takes a lot of pressure to get them to soften even slightly.

His breathing deepens as I work on him. He closes his eyes when I move my hands to his neck, gently moving his hair so I can knead the nape beneath it.

When I find a particularly knotty area at the base of his neck and push into it hard, he lets out a raspy exhale that’s almost a groan.

My heart and every pulse point are throbbing excitedly at these small signs of response from him. I keep up the massage for three minutes. Then I unbutton the top few buttons of my bodice to reveal more cleavage and move back around to the front of his chair.

His eyes open as I stand before him. He stares in that same intent way. I wish I knew him better so I could interpret exactly what it means. His cheeks, however, flush visibly as I kneel on the floor in front of him, gently spreading his knees to make room for my body between his thighs.

He’s holding on to the armrests and still staring when I reach for the top button of his trousers. They’re made of soft, thick material and expensively tailored in the most recent style with four buttons to fasten them instead of a zipper.

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