Page 6 of Wham, Bam, Marry Me, Ma’am
I look away quickly and clear my throat, attempting to take notes about Clinton and Barrett's visit to Festival Valley. Sensing a gaze upon me, I glance up to find Paul studying me intently. His eyes shoot over to Rachel, and he raises an eyebrow. I glare back at the papers, refusing to acknowledge his silent question.
Rachel turns, holding a small pouch, and walks closer to me, her brow furrowed in concern.
I panic. If I call her a good girl in front of my brothers, I will never be able to come to work again. We'll have to sell the company.
"It's fine," I snap, and Rachel freezes.
"Vaughn." I turn my head to Barrett and glare at the warning in his voice. He glares right back at me, his lips set in a thin line. He obviously didn't like my tone, but that asshole has no idea that I'm keeping him from watching me devour this woman in front of him. He will get front row seats to the moment I claim her if he doesn't let me use a fucking tone right now.
"Let me get it out." Her soft voice penetrates my anger, and against my better judgment, I let her turn my rolling chair toward her as she takes a seat next to me. She uses an alcohol wipe to clean the tweezers from the small kit. She turns to me with a smile, tentatively holding out her hand. Patiently waiting like I'm a small child, she gazes at me expectantly. With a deep sigh, I finally place my hand palm-up in hers. The moment I touch her, every ounce of anger and frustration melts away.
I'll do anything this intoxicating woman asks of me.
She turns on her phone's flashlight and leans over to get a closer look. Her hair smells like cherries and some kind of flower, and my cock hardens. I clench my jaw, doing my best to breathe through my mouth.
"There it is." Rachel turns her chair to get a better angle, and she's now sitting parallel to me. She rests my hand on the table while she works, and my forearm presses along her ribcage. Then, she leans forward, getting closer to my hand, and heaven shines down upon me as one perfect breast sits on top of my arm while she works.
I close my eyes, willing myself to run through baseball stats and cost analysis tables, but I keep coming back to one question. What color are her nipples?
"So stubborn," she murmurs, whether to me or the splinter, I don't know. She's concentrating deeply in a way I've come to understand is her modus operandi. Rachel is clever, thoughtful, and patient. A perfect balance to my obsessive controlling approach. She is peaceful but effective. Flexible, where I am stubborn. "It will hurt less if you stop moving."
I grunt in response. I'll show her how I can move.I'll move you up onto this table and make you come so hard you'll feel me for a week.
"Vaughn." West's voice snaps me out of my dirty thoughts. "We're taking Paul to lunch."
I nod stiffly, simultaneously thrilled with the prospect of being alone in the room with Rachel, but also terrified of what I'll do if they leave.
"Do you want me to order in for you guys?" Rachel looks up at my brothers and Paul.
"No, but we'll bring you back something. I'll text you when we pick a place, and you tell me what you want."
West texts Rachel?Since when? The growl that escapes from my lips causes the entire room to turn and look at me.
"Ow," I say pathetically, since she wasn't even working on my hand with West distracting her.
Rachel gives me a sympathetic pout and then returns to her work. "That is so nice, West. Thank you. I'm going out tonight, so I'll eat what I brought."
Out?Withsomeone? I clench my jaw, the sharp prick of the tweezers the only thing keeping me grounded right now.
"Got it!" Rachel exclaims triumphantly, and my brothers smirk before exiting the room with Paul.
And then we're alone.
I try to pull my hand away, but Rachel gives me a firm tug. "One more minute. You'll still have time to get your work done. I don't want this to get infected."
I nod curtly.
Rachel spreads a bit of salve from the small tube of antiseptic, biting her lower lip in concentration as she works. Then, with a final moment of torture, the sexy vixen leans over and blows on my palm.
I suppress a moan. My cock strains against my zipper, and I lean forward in an attempt to hide it.
"Sorry," she breathes. "It will stop stinging in a moment."
What about the throbbing in my cock? I know how to stop that, but then I risk losing her forever.
Rachel grabs a bandage and carefully fits it on my palm. "Done!" Her grin is mesmerizing.
I swallow thickly, then stand and leave the room abruptly without even a mention of gratitude.
