His laugh is loud, and it carries back to where Worth trails behind us. The grunt that rumbles from him is audible, even atthis distance. My eyes roll so hard it’s a miracle they don’t stick. Ethan doesn’t notice, still chatting, still smiling like nothing is amiss.
After clearing customs, we pile into two town cars; I’m buzzing with nerves and awe. When we finally pull up to the hotel—a massive glass tower glittering against the skyline—I nearly forget how exhausted I am. Inside, it’s all marble floors, golden chandeliers that look straight out of a luxury magazine. W.H.M. really didn’t spare any expenses.
I follow the others to reception. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Worth moving towards the elevators with his usual unbothered stride, phone still pressed to his ear. He doesn’t even glance at me.
After we’ve all checked in, the others gather in the lobby and start tossing around dinner plans.
“You coming with us?” Ethan asks, sounding hopeful.
I hesitate. My first instinct is to decline. I’m running on fumes, and all I want is a hot shower and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, even though it’s not nighttime yet. My eyelids feel like sandpaper, and every muscle aches from the flight. Jetlag sucks. My lips part to give him a polite “maybe next time”when Seraya—our lead-technical-engineer-turned-friend—chimes in from across the group.
“Mr. Miller said he’ll join us later. He always comes out with the team the first night of a trip,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder like it’s nothing.
My pulse gives a tiny, traitorous kick. Damn it.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll come,” I answer Ethan.Not because of Worth. Obviously.“I’ll see you in a bit then.”
I barely make it to my hotel room before I’m peeling myself out of my clothes. The bathroom fills with steam, and the hot water works away some of the stiffness in my legs and back. I close my eyes under the spray, but the second I do, images ofWorth on the plane creep back in—his broad frame beside me, his steady hand wrapped around mine, the way his presence made the fear disappear.
My brain takes me back to the kiss we shared in the mail room and my fingers go straight to my lips where the memory of Worth’s mouth on me won’t stop running in a loop.
I press my hands flat to the slick tile, trying to will the images away, but instead they multiply. His scent, his low, raspy voice in my ear, the thumb that traced lazy circles on my palm like it was his right. My chest heaves, and the water cascades over me, hotter, harder, as though it could wash him out of my system.
My fingers drift lower, slipping between my thighs until they find the heat of my center. A jolt rushes through me at the first brush, stealing my breath. I circle my clit in slow strokes, pretending it’sWorth’shands on me,hisbody surrounding me.
Every droplet feels like him. His touch ghosting down my spine, his mouth branding the curve of my neck. God—why does thinking of him feel so good when it should feel like the worst idea in the world?
My rhythm quickens, urgency clawing at every nerve. I tip my head back beneath the spray, teeth sinking into my lip to stifle the needy sound building in my throat. Pleasure coils tight, threatening to unravel me at the seams. A few more desperate strokes and it snaps, light bursting behind my eyes as a moan tears free, loud and unrestrained.
I stay there, caught between the scalding water and the ache he left behind, knowing I’ll never scrub Worth Miller off me, no matter how hard I try.
Freshly showered and wrapped in the hotel’s plush robe, I flop onto the bed and FaceTime Tiana. She picks up almost instantly, her face filling my screen, hair piled on top of her head and a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.
“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” I say, returning her smile. It’s 1 a.m. on a Sunday in Seattle, so I was expecting my call to go to voicemail.
“Yeah, well… I’m catching up on episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Might regret it in the morning.”
“Just make sure not to miss opening Willow’s. Mr. Patel might have a panic attack.”
Tiana gasps. “I could never be the reason for that poor man’s stress,” she says, feigning all innocence. We both know that she’s a thorn in Aravind’s side. But he would never replace Tiana, regardless of how crazy she is at times.
“How was the flight? Singapore already looks good on you,” she teases.
I groan. “Sixteen hours of hell. I thought I was going to die during takeoff. And don’t even get me started on the turbulence. I was able to sleep for most of the flight, though.”
“And Worth? How’shebeen acting with you?”
I chew on my bottom lip.
Tiana’s eyes narrow. “Spill it, sister.”
“I was panicking—you know, since I’ve never been on a plane before—and he noticed. He came over, buckled my seatbelt, and told me to squeeze his hand if I was scared.”
Her jaw drops. “Hold on. You held his hand for sixteen hours?!”
“God, no. Just for takeoff,” I snap, cheeks heating. “Still. It actually helped.”
Tiana smirks. “MJ, do you hear yourself?”