I spent the day working—all afternoon, stretching into the evening—to organize meetings for the week. The two store openings were back-to-back, which I found exhausting just seeing written on paper. One on Friday night, one on Saturday.

But leading up to that, Silver had brunches, lunches, and dinners to attend. She had walk-throughs of the store locations, a fashion shoot, a fashion show, a private showcase on Wednesday night with the clothes she'd crafted—those in my closet—and a gala on Thursday night.

Reading her scribbles made me nauseous, worrying how to fit everything into her cramped schedule. But it was possible, and I sent her the final layout via a link to her calendar, to which she replied, "you're awesome, thank you."

I didn't see her at all the rest of the day, nor that evening. Even when I took a break from staring at my computer screen and hurried downstairs for dinner—Gigi was cooking until I interviewed some chefs—Silver wasn't around. Her office door remained closed after I departed. Not that I'd spent time watching it, or anything, but...it hadn't opened again that I'd noticed.

I kind of missed her. Kind of missed how she narrowed her gaze on me. How her lips pinched. How she folded her arms over her big breasts and leaned forward pretending not to want to show off her exquisite body.

Of course she wanted to expose all her best features to me. We weren't allowed to indulge in one another, but surely, she'd take some sordid pleasure in taunting me, wouldn't she?

Tempting; but I ended up too swamped and exhausted to think much as I went to bed.

Normally I'd have snuck my hand into my underwear for a bit of relief, but my eyes closed, and I drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

Exhausted—but thriving. I loved living in Silver's luxurious condo. So much space, so many drawers and cozy seats and access to everything I needed to do my job right. She'd left me a list of credit card information for any purchases—professional or personal—and insisted I buy whatever I needed to get the job done properly.

I hadn't bought anything yet, but to know that it was possible, to know I had that access was thrilling. And, in another way, relaxing. So much less stressful than any other temp job I'd had.

Crazy how the woman who was meant to distract me actually gave me more distance and leeway and allowed me to assist her in any way I saw fit.

I hadn't expected to like the richness of this place, but I did. Especially compared to my cramped studio and its poorly masked smoke odors. Here the air had a whiff of spice and incense, of coffee and sweet musk and tranquility.

Those same smells welcomed me in the morning—the coffee, specifically. I slept like a baby in that enormous bed, and stretched with a smile as my alarm rang at six-thirty. We had a packed day ahead of us, and Silver reminded me—by text—that I was to accompany her everywhere.

By the time I showered and went downstairs for coffee, however, I realized I didn't know explicitly what accompanying her entailed. How was I supposed to dress? We wouldn't be walking much—Pete would take us everywhere, as far as I understood. So what shoes were appropriate?

What did the personal assistant of a billionaire fashion brand's CEO wear?

I drank my coffee and ate a pastry left out by Gigi. The more I sipped and chewed, the more my belly bubbled with anticipation.

I felt stupid for wondering, and more so for not asking Silver last night, when I might have prepared. It wouldn't take me long to change if this outfit didn't work—a good old pantsuit of gray and lavender—but how bad would I look for not knowing?

"Fuck it," I said, setting my mug in the sink, wrinkling my nose. "I need to ask her."

I should have texted, or emailed her—but dammit, we were in the same building.

I expected her to be in her office already, but to my surprise, the door was open and the room was empty.

Wincing, I ventured down the other side of the hall, towards where she'd told me her bedroom was. Maybe she hadn't woken up yet; or she was on a personal call or finishing up her makeup. Or she wasn't in the house at all, and I was fretting over nothing.

At the end of the corridor, the door was wide open. Beyond it, I caught her bed, half-made, and clothes on the floor—what looked to be a silky nightgown.

She was up, she was here...but where exactly?

I remembered a message she'd sent me yesterday, as I was on the phone with a restaurant to reserve a luncheon for her. "FYI, in this house, open doors mean come on in. Closed doors mean don't even knock, I'm unavailable."

Her bedroom door was open.

Did that signify I was clear to creep in and check on her? Maybe she was running late. Or she hadn't gotten the calendar link. Or I'd put in the wrong time; and with how dead I'd been last night when I sent the information to her, who knew? I rarely made mistakes, but...

"Shit," I said, cringing as I tiptoed into her bedroom. A rosy scent filtered into my nose, as well as a gentle, wafting fog, coming from what I imagined was the en-suite bathroom.

Ah, she was in the shower. Or lounging in a hot bubble bath. And I'd barged in—

Oh.

I'd barged in at the perfect moment. Or the worst; I hadn't decided yet.

As I turned my head to the left, I sighted her, standing before an ornate bathroom mirror, the sliding bathroom door open. She was wrapping a towel around herself. I glimpsed a slither of her naked body before the fabric covered her up.

A slither that was enough to rile my curiosity, to heat my cheeks, to make my lower half tremble with need.

At the same time, it woke a fear in me that prompted me to sneak backwards, to hurry out before she caught me.

"Eden," she said, without even turning around.

I scrunched my nose.

Shit. The reflection, duh.

I was frozen. I should have run off and acted like she'd hallucinated, because I'd never enter her room without invitation.

But instead, I couldn't move. I pressed a hand over my eyes, swallowing up the urge to keep looking, to watch her traipse over with a scowl on her face and a twinkle of anger in her dark gaze.

I was fucked.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Her, naked. Me seeing her naked. Us, alone in a room with a bed and many other places we could fuck.

We couldn't fuck.

She'd asked me one thing, one thing—to pretend like we'd never slept together.

But that brief vision of her nudity was enough to bring back all the memories I'd shoved down.

"Silver, I'm sorry, I—" I gulped, pushing my hand harder against my eyes. "I wasn't sure what to wear, and I probably should have messaged you about it instead—"

"Nonsense," she said, not an ounce of emotion in her voice. I sensed the sound coming from straight ahead, where I remembered the large bed to be. "We're in the same location. Calling or texting would have been stupid."

"Okay, but—" With my free hand I gestured vaguely in her direction. "This isn't good, and it's my fault, so—"

"This? Eden, please, lower your hand so you can speak to me correctly."

I bit the insides of my cheeks as I obeyed. If I didn't, she'd walk up to me and take my hands down and touch me, and that would start something we were forbidden from finishing.

I still squinted, hesitating to look at her full-on. "This, as in me walking in on you. I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Despite my slitted eyes, I spotted her arching a brow, an amused smirk across her lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for, in any case. I left the door open, and I did say open doors meant come in."

Was I losing it? She almost sounded like she...didn't care. She was there in her fluffy towel, its material squeezing over her hefty bosom and rounded ass, exposed to me and my hunger for her, and she wasn't bothered?

Or...had she left the door open on purpose?

She had no way of knowing I'd come up here looking for her. Right?

"Seriously, it's fine." She sat on the edge of her bed, cocking her head in that adorable way she did yesterday, when analyzing me. "What you're wearing is good. It's," she licked her lower lip, "quite sexy, actually."

"Oh." I set my hands behind my back, lest she see them shaking. And to prevent myself from reaching out to touch her. We were several feet apart, but still—I didn't trust myself. "Um, is that going to be all right? Me being sexy, that is. You're the boss, the spotlight should be on you, so..."

"Eden." Silver fixed her fiery gaze on me as she slipped one hand under her towel, as if to unfasten it. I gasped. "Please, stop overthinking things."

My eyes widened instead of heeding my internal command for them to close, to shut, to refuse to witness what I knew was about to happen.

Too late.

My urge for this woman was too powerful, and I sucked in my lips as she slowly, delicately, removed the towel from around her upper body.

I captured the wonderful image of her beautiful belly, her perky, gorgeous breasts, their nipples hard and red from the hot water. They enticed me. Large and malleable. Plump. Perfection. Yearning to be touched, tickled.

Shit.

"Silver," I breathed.

I needed to detach from this situation, but my body wouldn't let me.

"Yeah?" She leaned sideways and grabbed a bottle of lotion from her nightstand. In doing so, the rest of the towel unwrapped, revealing her thick thighs, shiny with moisture from the shower.

"Fuck, this is..." My heart raced and tingles tickled down into my underwear.

"Like what you see?" She pumped the moisturizer into her hands, rubbing them together, and lathered the stuff on her arms, her gaze on me.

When she massaged the cream onto and around her nipples, her mouth opened slightly, showing her tongue dancing inside.

I swallowed, wondering if I should lie, if I should jolt around and hasten out before she pulled me in too far. "Yes, but..."

"I know," said Silver, caressing the lotion onto her legs, dipping over to reach her calves, her ankles. "We can't sleep together. I was the one who ordained that. You can leave if you want, Eden. You're not in trouble."

I swallowed again, louder, unable to remove my sight from her fingers as they trailed along her soft-looking skin. "I shouldn't be here."

"Maybe. Maybe not." She moved her hands to her thighs, her eyes fixated on my face. "And like I said, I won't stop you from leaving. Or staying, if that's what you wish. Or," she gently spread her legs, unveiling her delicious, wet pussy, "watching."

My heart climbed up my throat and my feet were stuck in place. "Watching?"

"Mm," she said, massaging more lotion on the insides of her thighs, each movement bringing her fingers millimeters away from her slit. I saw the moisture from where I stood; whether it was from the shower or from her arousal, I'd likely never find out.

But I wanted her. I sensed my panties growing damp, my legs quaking as my desire grew.

She continued her lotion application, observing me as I couldn't seem to take my sight off her center. I couldn't remove myself from this erotic scene, craving to touch her, touch myself, to bring us both to the brink of absolute bliss.

"We can't touch," she said, enjoying herself, a tiny grin on her lips, "and I asked you to promise not to have sex with me. But this isn't sex. And...that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it."

I let out a low groan, unable to stop myself from replying, "Me, too."

"And I haven't forgotten about that night." She pulled her legs a little wider apart, giving a better view of her pink-tinted lower lips.

I shuddered, unsure how I was still standing, how I hadn't hopped over to put my face between those thunderous thighs to eat her out.

"Neither have I." My conscience screamed at me to shut up. "The images flow through me all the time, they...haunt me. And every time I look at you, I..."

"You what?" Silver slid her tongue over lips, one finger patting in the crease of her thighs. "Tell me the truth. I'm your boss, you can't lie to me."

Shit.

"I...want you." My chest poked out, and I nearly melted at her small but pleased smile. "Though I know I can't, we can't."

"You want me?" She crept her finger straight between her folds, her eyes lightly rolling back as she came into contact with her wetness. "Mm, tell me more."

I had no idea where my restraint came from. Watching her unravel in front of me, expose herself, touch herself, was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen. I wouldn't react, interfere; I had to stay where I was and imagine how she felt, how she tasted.

Getting close would break the spell.

She scooched closer to the edge of the bed and widened her legs again, giving me an amazing perspective of her pussy in all its glory. And more glorious still, allowing me to witness how she pleasured herself, which areas she favored, which made her quiver.

I salivated, losing track of space and time, forgetting how to speak.

"What do you want, Eden?" Her voice was so sultry, so steamed up with lust; and my name on her tongue was the cherry on top.

Was I dreaming? Was this some forbidden fantasy I'd cooked up while lounging on my bed, thinking about the boss I craved and couldn't have?

"I want to get closer," I said, planting my feet as firmly as I could, fisting my hands at my sides. "Admire you. Touch you. Lick you. Taste you." Bold words formed in my mouth before I could stop them. "Feel you releasing on my tongue."

I made myself wet with my own words. These were daring thoughts I'd never translated, never thought to say out loud to anyone. But fuck, this woman toyed with me in ways no one ever had, and brought out this naughty, dangerous side to me that I sort of feared, but sort of liked.

She released a moan as she trekked deeper into her dampness. "I wish you could."

I took a step closer, but raised my palms, signaling I had no intention of interrupting her. "Just want a better visual of this."

"Yeah?" Silver's cheeks were a sweet, rosy hue, and her breaths accelerated. Her hardened peaks were so ripe and there for the tasting, for licking. Between them and her growing arousal, her fingers finding a faster rhythm to carry her to her climax, I wasn't sure where to focus.

I grew hot, flushed, my heart pounding. Fuck, I wanted to touch myself so badly, since I couldn't touch her. But if I tried, I had no doubt she'd stop me. No, she wanted me there, stuck, watching her, losing my mind over her. Wishing I could be the one pleasuring her.

"What else, Eden?" She could hardly speak, her breaths quickening. Her fingers circled around her clit, and she arched her spine as she located her center of pleasure. "Oh, fuck, Eden, tell me more. Hurry."

"I want to be your fingers," I said, concentrating on her every move. "I want to replace them with my tongue, drink in every drop of you." A chill crashed through me; I didn't recognize myself, and yet, it was so hot to be here ogling her.

"God, you're so fucking tempting," she said in a hurried whisper. She then fell backwards, lifting her leg up and accessing the depths of her pussy to finish herself off. "Fuck, Eden, I wish you could fuck me, I wish you could—"

She stopped abruptly. I moved up to my tiptoes, desperate for her release, to see that o-face as she made herself come.

"Fuuuuck," she finally let out, her spine arching again as she slowed her finger's cadence. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Silver..." I massaged the back of my neck, trying not to stare at the glistening fruit before me. Trying not to yearn for it—for something that was impossible for me to have.

She sat up straight, shaking her head, blowing out a breath. "Yeah. I'm closing the door from now on." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, but she frowned as she retrieved her towel and stood up. "We're going to be late." She gestured at the hallway. "Go, tell Pete to get the car ready. I'll be done in fifteen."

Just like that, the sex-goddess was gone. Silver Bell, CEO of Silver, was back. In charge, neutral-faced and poised as ever. As if she hadn't climaxed in front of me, exalting in the knowledge that I was watching. That I was thirsty for her and didn't know how the fuck I was expected to keep pretending I wasn't.