Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) by Nicole Edwards (year 2 reading books TXT) 📗

the words, I sensed her modesty. She was pretending for me, and that in itself turned me on more than anything. I was used to submissives who played coy while flaunting everything they had in the hopes of catching a Dominant’s attention. At the club, they were en masse.

“I do,” I confirmed, wondering if she had expected me to saunter off with my eyes averted.

Little did Braelyn know, but I was not a man who backed down from a challenge. Nor was I the sort to go out of my way to make a submissive comfortable.

And Braelyn Bishop was as submissive as they came, of that I was certain.

“The question is, do you enjoy me watching?” I countered, moving around so that I could see her directly, rather than through the mirror.

Her eyes met mine through the steamy shower door. Once again, she made no attempt to cover herself, nor did she answer, but I could see it in her eyes. While she was slightly embarrassed, the fact that I was watching turned her on.

It was obvious she was finished when she reached to turn off the water.

“Are you warm?”

“Very much,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

While she squeezed the excess water from her hip-length hair, I grabbed the towel Auberon had placed in the warmer.

It seemed we were at a standoff when Braelyn opened the door and held her hand out. A polite man would’ve passed it over, left her alone so she could dress in privacy.

For the record, I was not a polite man.

“Allow me,” I offered, holding it open so she could walk into it.

It was a dare, and I could tell she realized that by the sparkle in her pretty, honey-gold eyes. Again, Braelyn surprised me, stepping out of the shower enclosure and onto the thick rug that was awaiting her on the floor. She turned her back to me, and after allowing my gaze to fully rake over her form, I enveloped her in the plush cotton, stepping forward so that I was pressed against her back as she took the edges and closed them around herself.

“You smell good,” I whispered near her ear, using the same words she’d used on me earlier.

I felt her shiver and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

For a brief moment, I was tempted to press my lips to her skin, to see if she was as soft and smooth as she appeared. I refrained from doing so, but only because I was enjoying the game we were playing.

“Your clothes will be delivered shortly,” I told her as I stepped back. “In the meantime…” I motioned toward the robe hanging on the wall, then walked around her and into the bedroom.

She appeared a few minutes later, her hair still wet and hanging down her back, the black robe wrapped securely around her and belted at the waist. Because the robe was tailored to fit me, it dwarfed her, the cuffs rolled up multiple times to free her hands, the bottom hem brushing the tops of her feet. It was a look I found more than a little fascinating, and it had me wondering what she would look like in my shirt. And nothing else.

“Rolphe, dry Miss Bishop’s hair,” I ordered my other possession.

I could see the surprise on Braelyn’s face when Rolphe moved toward her, but she only hesitated slightly when he held his hand out for hers, leading her back to the bathroom.

While they took care of that, I went into the office attached to my sleeping quarters, pleased to find that Auberon had started the electric fireplace, warming the space immensely.

“Find the first-aid kit,” I instructed him, sending him on his way once more.

Fifteen minutes later, I returned to the bedroom when I heard the hair dryer turn off. I stepped into the room at the same time Braelyn stepped out of the bathroom. I saw the way she eyed the bed speculatively, so I decided to put her at ease.

“This way,” I said when she looked my way.

Her gaze shot over to the single door, and I could sense her questions.

“It’s my office.”

Her soft sigh was one of relief and I found myself smiling. Although she’d appeared bold and sure of herself, it looked as though it was a bit overinflated.

I followed Braelyn into my office, stopping abruptly when she did. I peered over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. There, kneeling on the floor, was Auberon, at his side, Rolphe, both having taken up the positions required of them when they had completed all their assigned tasks.

“They’re waiting for me,” I assured her, guiding her around them.

“Do they do that often?” Her voice wavered slightly when she glanced back at them.

“Only when they’re waiting for me to give them something to do.” I followed Braelyn across the room, gestured toward one of the two plush recliners that would keep us secure during takeoff.

While Braelyn took her seat, I retrieved the first-aid kit from the desk, carried it over to her.

Her eyes widened. “What’s that?”

“I need to take a look at your feet,” I informed her. “You’ve been limping since we left the party.”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, tucking her feet back as much as she could.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She hesitated but finally loosened her muscles when I knelt down before her, reaching for one foot. Lifting it up, I gave it a quick glance, noticing the numerous scrapes and abrasions. Nothing too serious, but I was certain they would be causing her some pain. It was when I looked at the other that my concern grew. Her skin was torn, a jagged gash running down her instep. It was already angry red and inflamed.

Because I wasn’t a doctor, I opted to hold off on doing anything more than dabbing peroxide on the cuts and applying a light layer of antibiotic ointment.

She must’ve caught me frowning, because she bent forward, tried to look. “Is it bad?”

Her worried