Page 49 of Pride & Precedents

"You might want to invest in some anti-slip stickers," he says, still chuckling. I stick my tongue out at him and gesture for him to turn around so I can scrub his back. Fair is fair.

I drag the soapy loofah down his smooth, tan skin. There's no give at all; it's solid muscle. I make large circles of soap, steadilymoving down the thick columns of his back until I reach the curve of his ass.

I'm not an ass woman. I may have glanced at one or two Mets players' butts, but I've honestly never put much thought into men's asses. But Henry's has made me a true believer, and I will spread his gospel far and wide.

"Everything OK back there?" he asks, humor thick in his voice.

I clear my throat.How the fuck do I keep getting caught daydreaming about Henry?I've never been like this with guys before. Has it been so long since I've had sex that I've become some blushing floozie?

"All good. Just…thinking about my to-dos for the day."

He looks over his shoulder and his face says that he knows I'm lying, but that he's willing to give me a break.

"Is the first item on the list 'fantasize about my boss's ass?'"

OK, I was wrong. His face really said that he knows I'm lying, and hecan't wait to tease me mercilessly.

"OK, ok," I pout, turning away in embarrassment. He turns around to face me and then cups my jaw with a large hand. It practically covers the whole side of my face; no wonder he made me cum so quick that first night in my kitchen. Come to think of it, I don't normally cum from just fingers, so he might be some sort of sex wizard.Orgasma fantastica!

"You're not the only one fantasizing, Camila," he says, then kisses me with a serious look in his eyes. "And you'redefinitelynot the only one looking."

There I go again, blushing like a sixteen-year-old girl with her first boyfriend. He puts his other hand on the other side of my jaw and kisses me softly. He doesn't eat my whole face like the last guy I hooked up with from Tinder. He doesn't ram his tongue down my throat like the one before that, from Bumble. His kiss is soft, it's slow, it's…sweet. And just like I was baptizedinto the Church of Gorgeous Men's Asses, I'm now a convert for sweet kisses, too.

It doesn't stay sweet, though. How could it, with such naked attraction between us and naked…bodies? Each kiss gets more urgent until teeth are biting necks, hands are gripping hips, and we begin sliding our bodies along each other's, as close as two people can get with a condom two rooms away. I press against him, moving up and down, enjoying the slickness from the soap still running off his body.

It's probably the wettest dry humping in history and most definitely the hottest. Our moans and groans fill the air already thick with steam. I'm rubbing my mound against his thigh as he thrusts his cock against my hip and it's so good and so…different. Differentgood. He's panting light puffs of air into my ear as we cling together, groping and grinding and chasing our hovering orgasms.

Mine hits first. My legs quake around his thigh and I shudder against his chest, using it to smother my screams. He's not far behind, grunting out his pleasure as white streams run down my legs into the drain.

"Have you ever done that before?" he asks, sounding just as out of breath and amazed as I feel.

"Never," I admit, and I bite my lip, worrying about the gravity of that.

Before I can analyze further, he shuffles me out of the shower and wraps me in a big, fluffy towel. Towels I splurged on with last year's bonus. They're Egyptian cotton, ultra-thin, and large enough to wrap around my voluptuous body.

He dries me off carefully, then rubs lotion over my limbs until I'm both relaxed and a little needy for him again. His care is a stark contrast to last night's frenzy; tenderness is yet another side of Henry Park. We dress in silence, sneaking looks and kisses, and I luckily find an unopened toothbrush he can use.

As I turn to lock the door behind us, I take a steadying breath. Spending the night with my boss was beyond my wildest fantasies. Spending thedaywith him might push my heart past the point of no return.

Chapter twenty

Camila

Icome back to our tiny table with extra napkins and coffee creamer, only to find a huge bite taken out of my black-and-white cookie. I send Henry a playful glare when I sit down.

"Nuh uh! You didnotjust take a bite out of my cookie after talking shit all the way here!" He smiles sheepishly, blotting the chocolate smudge and crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

"You were taking too long," he whines, stealing yet another piece of my cookie before I can swat him away.

"Stop it!"

He breaks out in a laugh and I nearly swoon. He should be careful with that mouth of his. It's lethal.

"If you leave me with nothing but cannolis," I warn, "we're gonna fight." He laughs again at my empty threat, and I steal the sfogliatelle from his plate in retribution.

Last night was memorable, and today is already shaping up to be unforgettable. Since the weekend bus schedule is hit-or-miss and we didn't want to bug Murray, we took an Uber to Artuso Pastry Shop. Henry complained I was trying to kill himby making us go anywhere without getting caffeine first, then proceeded to put his head in my lap "for a quick nap". I didn't buy it for a second, especially when his nose nuzzled a little too close to the hem of my skirt as he "slept". Goosebumps spread across my skin and I pushed him off before the driver could scold us. He feigned drowsiness as he sat up, and it was clear from the look on his face that he had no regrets about copping a feel.

Henry takes another bite of stolen pastry and closes his eyes.

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