Apparently, the hotel is nearly at capacity for its opening week, with off-season special rates enticing faithful Wolf chain patrons. The big grand opening ceremony with media is next week. Enough time, hopefully, to iron out any kinks.

“I don’t know how to make this work. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m doing this job.” I hear him clicking away at keys. “Not a lot of time to work with, though. Okay, here we go. Rooms 43 and 44, table of four at 6:00 p.m.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to swap their reservations for 8:00 p.m. and go up to their rooms to kiss their asses with a bottle of reserve wine and a charcuterie board to tide them over another two hours. Oh, how I love kissing ass.” The sarcasm drips from his tone.

“Thanks, Rich.”

“Anything for Mr. Wolf.”

I hang up with a sigh of relief. There. That problem is fixed. Now I can take his suit to the cleaners and go home. To sleep, after a mentally and physically long but exciting day.

I move for the suit still draped over the chair. As I get closer, I catch the sound of the shower in Henry’s room running.

“He’s your boss, he’s your boss, he’s your boss...” I chant as I fold his clothing over my arm, inhaling the smell of his cologne that clings to the material. He smells divine. What I’d do to burrow my nose in his neck again.

Turning to leave, my eyes can’t help but veer to the narrow space where the bedroom door doesn’t quite meet the wall. It’s a perfect sightline to the bathroom. I expect the pocket door to be pulled closed.

It’s not.

And the shower room is so large that the steam doesn’t do a good enough job of fogging up the glass.

Henry’s back is to me, his hands working shampoo through his hair, the soap running down in rivulets over hard round ass cheeks and down sinewy thighs. I don’t know when he works out but he must—religiously—to have a sculpted body like that.

My mouth drops open.

I can’t be watching this. He shouldn’t have left both doors open, but maybe he did that because he trusts me not to spy through the five-inch opening. I reach for the door handle to give him his privacy, but before I can will myself to pull it shut, I let my greedy eyes find Henry again.

An “Oh my God,” escapes my lips as I watch him turn to face me, the water streaming over his bowed head. He adjusts his stance, spreading his legs farther apart. I can see all of him now, including the cock that juts out in front of him, the swollen end of it stretching toward his navel, almost reaching it.

I’m frozen, half in panic, half in awe as I watch him reach down and fist the base of it and then begin sliding up and down it, slowly, from root all the way to the purplish, round tip.

I gasp. I’m watching my boss jerk off.

And I can’t stop.

First Katie and Rachel, now Henry? I’ve turned into a complete pervert.

And yet I can’t pull my eyes away. This is different from watching Katie and Rachel. Their bodies didn’t turn me on, as attractive as each of them are. It was what they were doing, and the pleasure they were deriving from it, that had my blood flowing.

But here, now... I know I’m reacting to all that is Henry. To his solid, golden form, drenched in water and soap; to the sharp V of his abdomen, leading to a patch of dark hair and the first fully grown man’s penis I’ve ever seen in person; to the highly vulnerable position I’ve caught him in.

Muscles in his forearm cord as his hand picks up speed, sliding down to the base and all the way up, over and over again. He’s huge, so much bigger than what I know of Jed, with my limited experience through his pants. How that would even fit inside a woman, I can’t imagine.

But the dampness in my panties and the deep throb between my legs tells me that I’d like to find out.

Did he mean to leave both these doors open? He knew I was still here, phoning to change reservations. I wasn’t on the phone that long, was I?

My lips part as his hips begin to sway with each stroke, until he’s more thrusting his body than his hand actually doing any work, his balls beneath swinging with the jerky motion. They look heavy and full. That’s what Jed said happens when he’s about to come. He admitted to me that he rubbed himself off in his room sometimes, especially after we’d been kissing or touching. Then he asked me if I did, and I lied to him. I told him that I couldn’t, that I was afraid it would be wrong.

And yet, look at me now.

Above the sound of the showerhead running I can hear Henry’s deep groans, and I find myself licking my suddenly dry lips and panting along with him, wishing those hands were on me, wishing it was my fist wrapped around him, pumping him like that. I don’t even know if my hands are big enough.

I’m now practically leaning against the door, squeezed within the narrow space so I can see him, praying that the glass remains clear enough to watch. He looks almost savage, the way he tugs violently at himself with one hand, while his free hand presses flat against the glass. My legs shake with anticipation as I watch, feeling my breasts grow heavy and my nipples tighten with the anticipation. What will Henry orgasming look like?

Thirty seconds later, I find out as Henry’s lips part and he lets out a series of guttural moans followed by a cry. His powerful naked body stills as white cream shoots out the tip of his cock in streams, hitting the glass wall. His hand slows as he milks himself, his chest heaving in and out with his deep breaths.

This is definitely when I should leave. Heck, I should have never peeked through that narrow space in his room in the first place. I should have grabbed the suit from the chair and kept going.

So when Henry abruptly looks up, as if sensing someone watching him, and our gazes lock, my stomach drops to the floor like a rock.

For three long, heart-stopping seconds, I stare into Henry’s piercing blue eyes. And then I bolt out of Penthouse Cabin One, clutching his suit to my chest.

Chapter Thirteen

How long before Henry fires me? Will it be tonight? Or tomorrow morning? Will he do it himself, or have Belinda give me a shove off? Something in my gut tells me she might not mind that.

He trusted me and I let him down.

The water in the stall next to me shuts off.

“What is that delicious smell?” Katie calls out.

I smile despite my anxiety, lathering my sore, stressed body. I always take pride in someone fawning over a product of mine. “Mint soap. Homemade.” After a nerve-wracking day, there’s nothing more soothing than creamy coconut-oil-based herbal soaps and a hot shower.

“Homemade as in you made it?”

“Yup.”

“You know how to make that kind of stuff?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty easy.” If I were in Greenbank, I’m sure I’d be occupying my time and broken heart by making truckloads right now. I kind of miss the process, but I couldn’t bring my supplies here. No way Alaska Airlines would have let me fly with a vat of lye. Plus, I figured I wouldn’t have the facilities or time to make anything.

My shower curtain suddenly glides open and I gasp, one arm flying to do a poor job of covering my breasts, my free hand fanning between my legs.

Katie adjusts the white towel that’s wrapped around her body. “Relax. I see naked women all day long, Abbi.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Can I see the soap for a minute?”

I uncover my breasts reluctantly and hold out the hand with the bar. I can’t say the last time anyone besides my doctor has seen me naked. People are meant to change behind closed doors, alone. More sage advice from Beverly Mitchell.

Katie takes it from me and holds it up to her nose. She inhales deeply, then runs her thumb over it. “Heavenly. And it doesn’t look gross, like other homemade soaps.”