Page 42 of All the Drama from New York

Camille pointed to a nearby door. “That’s the guest bathroom. It has all the toiletries and things you should want. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He probably thinks I have lots of rich friends come to stay.

She’d die of embarrassment if Ryan ever found out that he was the first real guest in the four years since she’d lived here to use that bathroom. Her brother Éliott was the only person who’d ever stayed here, and he was family. That didn’t count.

Ryan nodded, then headed off toward the bathroom. As soon as the door had closed and she heard the lock click shut, Camille let out a breath.

Last night had been bad enough when she’d found him asleep on the chaise longue, but this morning was as awkward as hell. He was all bed mussed and sexy half-awake male. Even in yesterday’s rumpled clothes he’d looked irresistible.

He’s, my employee. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, like how I used to see him on the tv show. Real Ryan does not equal Ryan from Bachelors on the Beach.

As soon as Ryan was dressed and they had eaten breakfast, she would put her professional façade back in place and get to work. She would concentrate on selecting the final designs she wanted to showcase at fashion week, while he could continue to flesh out the project plan. There were models to book. Fittings to arrange. And they really should check in with the manufacturers, to make sure the production of her collection pieces, was on schedule. If the store buyers loved her clothes, they had to know when their customers would be able to get their hands on Camille’s latest creations.

So, all this stupid mooning over a guy she had seen on a tv show four years ago really had to stop.

Later today they would head out to scout the location for the runway show, and when they did it would all be above board. She would most definitely not be checking out his ass. Or thinking about those stunning brown eyes of his, and how they would look into her eyes as he rose above her and thrust his cock deep into her body.

No I won’t be thinking about that.

Oh god, I can’t stop thinking about that.

The clothes. The runway. Everything but the guy who was currently standing naked under her shower. That was the important stuff.

Naked. In. My. Shower.

He would be running his strong hands over his body. Soaping up all those crevices and private places. At some point he would have his cock in his hands and be washing it clean.

I could do that for him. But it might involve some tongue and mouth.

Camille squealed when the buzzer for the front door sounded. “Merde!” Her heart was still racing as she took the parcel from the zipper delivery service, and after giving them a brief, “Thank you,” and a generous tip, quickly closed the door. The courier had to have seen the bright red which burned on her cheeks.

At least it wasn’t one of the regular food delivery team members from Royal Resorts Manhattan. They all knew her far too well, and if she’d answered the door in such a flustered state to any one of them, she’d have handed them a perfect slice of early morning gossip.

It had been a long time since she had felt this way about a guy. The past four years had been work, and nothing else. Most days she’d barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone do anything about getting hot and heavy with a sexy male.

Camille was still shaking her head as she set the small parcel on the kitchen counter. This was dangerous territory. The US had employment laws. Bosses did not go lusting after employees.

All those sexy rom com movies about office romances were just a figment of Hollywood’s imagination. This was the real world. People got sued in the real world. The last thing she needed was for her name to be dragged through the mud because she couldn’t resist acting on her desires for her male employee.

She had to get back to smashing out a solid hour on her exercise bike. Anything to calm her raging libido. To stopthinking about Ryan Collins. Of what she would like him to do to her, and she to him.

But it was easier said than done. She’d fallen for him four years ago and what should have died a natural death when the tv show ended, had now sprung back to life. Camille swallowed deep as her aching desire for Ryan breathed hard and heavy down her neck.

I am in so much trouble.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ryan spent a good ten minutes making sure he left the bathroom in as spotless a state as when he’d first found it. If this was anAirbnbhis guest rating would be perfect.

He’d put his shirt from yesterday back on. And since he had slept in it, there were more than a few creases. His pants were little better. Ryan brushed his hands down the front of his button down, but it did nothing.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Camille was waiting for him.

“I don’t suppose you have an iron I could borrow,” he said.

“I have something better, here.” She handed him an olive green t-shirt. It looked like it had barely, if ever, been worn. As Ryan took it from Camille’s hands, he couldn’t help but wince. Was this a left over from an old boyfriend?

As if reading his mind, Camille huffed. “Relax, it belongs to my brother Éliott. He stays here sometimes when he’s in New York. It’s brand new so he won’t mind you wearing it.”

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