6. Winnie

6

WINNIE

I spent the rest of the day on my own, strolling through the city and trying not to think about love triangles or basically anything that didn’t spark joy. Paris was a feast for the eyes and the soul. I felt rejuvenated and carefree the following morning…ready to conquer the city and if he’d let me, assist the professor.

I tapped on his door, unabashedly ogling his damp torso as he fiddled with the corner of a towel.

“Alistair, you’re naked,” I deadpanned. “Again. Are you irascible to clothes?”

He fastened the towel and offered an apologetic half smile. “I think you mean averse not irascible. And no, I quite like being dressed and I’ll fix that immediately. Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I sidled around him, stepping into his room. “Don’t bother dressing on my account. Hey, it looks like you cleaned up the place.”

“A bit. I shouldn’t have opened the door, but I didn’t want to miss the cleaning service today.” He clutched his towel with one hand and raked his fingers through his hair with the other. “I’ll finish up in the bathroom and get dressed. Was there something you needed?”

“Yes! I’ve been doing some research, and I have questions.” I shooed him into his bedroom suite. “Do your thing. We can talk through the door.”

“I’m going to shave, Winnie, and?—”

“That’s cool.”

Alistair wrinkled his brow as if pondering whether it was “cool” before giving up and heading for the bathroom. He didn’t close the door all the way, but I kept a respectful distance perched on the bench at the end of his king-sized bed.

The thick damask curtains were drawn on one side of the window, letting a ribbon of light in. I quelled the urge to tidy the mess of discarded clothing on the floor. I was no neat freak, but this dude was a slob.

“What was your question?” he asked, removing his glasses to slather lotion onto his cheeks.

I gazed at his reflection in the mirror and damn it, my mind went blank. There was something incredibly sexy about a bear of a man shaving. Or was that me?

I cleared my throat and decided to put the overdue “I shouldn’t have stuck my tongue down your throat” speech on hold. It was better to concentrate on my new mission of becoming a proper assistant.

“Did ancient Egyptians really invent toothpaste, clocks, and paper? What was the purpose of the mummy thing? I read that everyone did it, irregardless of class.”

Alistair pivoted with a razor in hand, his face white with shaving cream, his hair askew. “Irregardless is not a word, and not everyone was mummified. It was an expensive process. Poorer people were buried in simple graves with a few belongings.”

“I knew that. I was just testing you.” I jumped to my feet to lean against the bathroom doorjamb, unthinking. Emphasis on unthinking. I shouldn’t have been in his suite at all, but he was magnetic. “These are things an assistant should know, and I’m doing my homework.”

“That’s not necessary,” he stated, dragging his razor along his jaw.

I ignored him. “I read that the oldest known mummy was found in Chile, not Egypt. I also read something disgusting about the organs and brains and—you’re going to cut yourself. Let me help.”

He held the razor out of my reach and shook his head. “No, Winnie.”

I rested my hip on the counter, crossing my arms and blurting, “I’m sorry about the kissing thing. It was hot as fuck, so I don’t really regret it, but it probably shouldn’t have happened. I’m glad that you spoke to Gerard and took control of that situation. Good move. Except you took on another project. And since it’s sort of my fault, I’m going to assist you…like I suggested.”

Alistair’s eyes shifted to mine in the mirror as he continued to shave. I watched the glide of his sure fingers in a trance. I didn’t notice the gathering silence until he turned on the water and bent to rinse his face. He reached for the hand towel on the counter and dried off, then slipped out of the room.

And me? My mouth was dry and my heart was beating out of control. Oh, yeah…and my dick was pulsing against my zipper. I was sex starved, to be sure, but this was an extreme reaction to watching a man shave.

Ugh . You know what this meant? I was attracted to the professor.

Snap out of it, Winnie.

I swiped my clammy palms on a towel and grabbed the glasses he’d left on the counter, wordlessly handing them over to him .

Alistair thanked me with a nod and wandered to his suitcase, clutching his towel with his right hand and sifting through his belongings with his left. Apparently, this was a silent good-bye.

I could take a hint. I tortured myself with one last peek at his broad chest and noticed that his glasses had slipped on his nose as he unearthed a pair of boxer briefs. He froze…hands full and most likely unable to see.

Anyone else would have dropped the briefs, fixed the glasses situation, and moved on without a thought. Not Alistair. The guy had more degrees than a thermometer, yet motor skill prioritization stumped him. I cocked my head, fascinated by his apparent indecision.

When seconds ticked into a minute, I couldn’t take the suspense. I marched to the professor’s side and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, ha. Thank you.”

Alistair flashed a self-deprecating grin that made him look ten years younger. The twinkle in his eyes and the lopsided curl of his lips invited me to laugh at his clumsy display. But I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth…and his smooth jaw. He smelled fresh and minty—like toothpaste, shampoo, and something uniquely him. It was the beginning of my undoing.

His damp hair was finger-combed and wild and I liked it. I itched to push the stray lock from his forehead. Of course, I wouldn’t dare. No way. I knew myself. One touch and I’d be a goner. I’d plaster my naughty self all up in his grill, feasting on his lips while I explored every inch of his beefy, sexy torso. Bad idea.

So I stepped aside and gestured to the adjoining bedroom. “I should…”

“Yes, of course. We’ll talk later.” Alistair nodded. Vigorously.

All that vigorous nodding dislodged his glasses again .

This time he dropped the towel and the briefs to rescue his spectacles, and boom —he was starkers.

Just like the other day. Only worse because now I knew what it felt like to have his mouth on mine. I was so fucking hot and horny for him, it wasn’t funny.

And what the hell was with the rampant nudity?

If I didn’t know better, I’d think Alistair was an exhibitionist. Hell, maybe he was, but I had bigger problems to contend with now. Like my dick. It swelled in appreciation, and my little gasp of surprise was drenched with a generous helping of unmistakable desire. I couldn’t fake my way out of this gracefully.

I was fully clothed in my fabulous blue plaid trousers and a tapered oxford shirt. I oozed all things sharp and professional, but there was no hiding my burgeoning boner.

I picked up the towel in a last-ditch effort to pull myself together. Sadly, my balance was out of whack. I tripped and fell onto my knees, looked up and?—

Oh, Lord, give me strength.

Yeah, you know the philosophy I shared with the professor at the train station about finding a light and fluffy bloop to distract you from your problems? Total bullshit. Or maybe it didn’t apply in times like these. I mean…c’mon. I was face-to-face with a big, beautiful cock that seemed to grow before my very eyes.

I’d been in some tricky situations in the past. For example, the back-seat make-out session with a stranger I’d shared a cab with in New York City who I spotted on Dancing with the Stars the following week, and the memorable occasion when a go-go dancer pulled me on stage and proceeded to peel his clothes off a la Magic Mike. All of his clothes.

There were dozens of other instances of me temporarily losing my sense of propriety, but they paled in comparison to this .

Sure, I knew what I was supposed to do—jump to my feet and tell Alistair to knock on my door as soon as he was dressed, but I was not a damn saint. I was on fire for him. He was quietly commanding, sexy without trying.

And naked Alistair was a fucking god.

This man had been on my mind nonstop for days, starring in this exact sort of scenario. So excuse me for making all the wrong decisions, but since I was probably already on my way to hell in a Louis Vuitton knockoff handbag, I had nothing to lose.

Okay, possibly a job. That didn’t register as particularly important at the moment, though.

I glanced up at the professor and lifted my hand, brushing my fingertips along his shaft in a featherlight touch.

“Can I?” I whispered. “It’s too much, I know it is, but I just…”

“Yes.” Alistair’s voice was low and rumbly as he gripped his cock at the base, offering it to me with a no-nonsense confidence that was sexy as fuck. “Do it.”

I licked my parched lips as I curled my fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly. My knees dug into the commercial-grade hotel carpet, but I was too strung out to suggest moving somewhere more comfortable. The head of his cock disappearing behind his foreskin was mesmerizing.

I squeezed him on the up-stroke experimentally, watching a bead of precum gather on his slit. I swiped it with my thumb, meeting his gaze as I sucked the digit like a lollipop. Alistair hissed somewhere above me and let out a guttural, greedy sound I felt deep in my chest. It spurred me into action.

Real action.

I jacked him a couple of times and leaned forward to lick the underside of his cock, just once. I fondled his balls and did it again, opening my mouth to circle his crown with the tip of my tongue. And then…I swallowed him whole.

Alistair groaned aloud, grabbing a fistful of my hair as if to keep me in place. He didn’t have to worry about me going anywhere. I was in heaven. I sucked with gusto, hollowing out my cheeks and drawing away with a pop before opening wider and taking even more of his thick dick.

I gagged more than once—a testament to his size and my lack of recent practice. I squeezed his ass and raked my nails along his thighs, loving his endless stream of British swear words. Bloody fuck, bloody fucking hell, so bloody good…

My eyes watered as I pulled off his dick. I chuckled softly, gliding my hand up and down his pole. “I love the way you talk. You sound so sexy and so?—”

“Christ, I’m going to come,” he warned.

And he did. On my chin, my right cheek, and the corner of my mouth. Holy fuck, that was hot.

Heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent room as I sat on my heels, blinking wildly in a state of blissed-out horny shock.

“Wow,” I purred, licking my bottom lip.

“You’ve got…on your… Stay. I’ll be back in a jiff.” Alistair returned with a wet cloth, wearing a pair of black boxer briefs and a hesitant smile. “Are you all right?”

I stood, tidying up and straightening my clothes. “My cock hurts from zipper strangulation but otherwise, yes.”

“Open your trousers,” he commanded.

“I…”

“Do it.”

His authoritative tone sent a new wave of shivers along my spine. I obeyed with trembling fingers, too far gone to second-guess my decision-making skills.

I leaned against the nearest wall, shoving my trousers and boxer briefs over my ass. My cock sprang free and yes, I might have whimpered in relief as I gripped myself. I was so close. My whole body was taut and tingly with impending release. I squeezed my eyes shut and jacked my aching dick .

Alistair moved into my space, licked his palm, then curled his fingers around mine, and stroked—once, twice…

“ Ungh !”

“That’s it. I’ve got you,” he murmured softly. “Come for me.”

I shot off like a cannon, roaring as I dug my nails into his arm. I went limp and instead of collapsing against the wall to put a little space between us and the bad idea I’d unleashed, I threw myself at the professor, fusing our mouths hungrily.

And somehow, it was better than our first kiss. It was a needy, grabby, tongue twist fueled by adrenaline and post-orgasmic bliss.

Hey, no one had ever accused me of being subtle.

Alistair broke for air and stepped aside, bracing himself on the wall next to me, panting. I wished I could think of something clever to say, but there was a big empty cartoon bubble hanging over my head.

I met his eyes and shit, I think I blushed.

“How did that happen?” I choked out.

He bent to pick up the towel he’d dropped earlier, wiped his hands, and then tossed it to me. “You followed me into the bathroom to ask about…mummies. It’s hazy for me after that.”

I did a minor cleanup job and loosely put myself together. I needed a shower and a change of clothes, stat. “Mummies. History really gets your motor running, huh?”

“You could say that,” Alistair agreed with a self-deprecating half laugh, setting his hands on his hips as he stared at me. “How do we do this now?”

“You mean…” I gestured between us manically, panic rising like a tidal wave.

“Winnie? Are you going to faint?”

“Yes. No. Um…gimme a second. I’ll be right back.” I made a beeline for the bathroom, turning on the faucet as I gaped at my reflection .

Jiminy freaking Christmas, what did I do?

I’d blown my best friend’s boss. No, I hadn’t just blown Alistair—I’d gotten down on my knees and worshiped his cock with everything I’d had in me. No thought about consequences or the fact that we were only a few days into a month-long trip. Disaster!

Or was it? Ugh. There was only one way to find out.

I splashed water on my face, searched my pocket for my pink-tinted gloss and reapplied, examining my bee-stung lips as I gave myself one last stern talking-to in the mirror. “Get your act together, Win, and be-fucking-have.”

Lecture complete, I straightened my shirt and opened the door.

“Are you all right?” Alistair asked, a concerned expression knitting his brow.

“Honest? I’m a little freaked out and the potential for big regret should be there, but I don’t feel it. You might, though, and I understand. I guess that makes me nervous. Sexy shenanigans was definitely on my Parisian wish list, but I’m sure it wasn’t on yours and certainly not with me. So when you ask, how do we do this—the answer is, I don’t fucking know. You have to make the call here. You have to tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, I’ll go. If you want me to stay?—”

“Of course I want you to stay, you daft man. I thought it was obvious.”

I lifted my chin and smiled hesitantly. “Okay…good.”

“We’re here for a month, Winnie, and while I suppose we could pretend nothing occurred, that might prove impossible in the long run. For me, anyway.”

“Me too. Totally impossible,” I agreed. “Okay, let’s stick to my idea—Paris for me, King Tut and mummies and naughty Egyptian art for you. And I think you should let me help you. It’s only a month, right? I don’t want to go to any more museums alone, and I don’t think you should be cooped up in your room all day. The rest—the sexy stuff…I say we go with the flow. No plans necessary.”

Alistair nodded slowly. “All right.”

“Yeah?” I flashed a wide grin. “You’ll let me help?”

“We can try.”

I didn’t miss the hesitant drawl, but I wasn’t deterred. “I’ll shower and change, and then we can coagulate our calendars.”

“Coordinate?”

“Yes! That’s it.” I pointed a finger at his chest and at the last second, kissed his cheek. “Thanks. You won’t be sorry.”