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It is surely the hottest day of summer. The humidity clings to me like a second skin. As I make my way to the lingerie boutique I own and operate, I mentally chastise myself for having worn jeans and a tank top today. I precariously balance my steaming cup of coffee in one hand while jiggling my keys in the door to unlock it, managing just barely to avoid spilling the hot caffeine all over myself. I sigh. I am most definitely not a morning person.
Depositing my mug on the counter, I rush to punch in the alarm code. I check the time, glad it’s still 8:00 a.m. I still have half an hour until Jason gets here with his truck to completely overhaul the tiles in the front entrance of my store as part of my renovation plan. I close my eyes, waiting for the caffeine to pump through my veins and make me feel awake so I can start the day.
It’s 8:15. I lift myself out of my seat and peruse some of the brand-new bra and panty sets I recently received. I smile, feeling the silky fabrics between my fingers, examining the new lace sets imported from Spain, my favorite of which I am already wearing, pilfered yesterday . Ah, one of the perks of owning my own lingerie store is having a gratuitously extensive array of sexy European underthings to slink myself into.
The door opens and startles me. I turn around, inhaling sharply. Good God, this can’t be the same man who originally quoted me the price of the tile job. Today Jason is without his professional-looking glasses and clipboard, his dark blond hair a disheveled mess. He’s wearing a white cutoff t-shirt and dirty white jeans, contrasting with his bronzed skin and revealing his excessively shapely arms. If he had been attractive to me before when he was decked out in his button-down shirt and black pants, he is infinitely more sexy to me now.
He greets me in French with a sly smile, his blue eyes bright despite the early hour. My brain kick-starts again, and we shake hands, his hot grip lingering, letting me feel the roughness of his hands. I lean against the counter, feeling slightly dizzy. I look a mess, yet he is still undressing me with his eyes. I feel completely naked under his dirty gaze, and try to control my breathing. I find my words and manage to reply, asking him if he has everything he needs. His eyes roam over my body hungrily, reluctantly saying yes. I still register the unspoken end to his reply.
There is pure sex dripping off his body, I can feel it, taste it, smell it. Never before have I met someone so saturated with masculinity. His magnetism unconsciously draws me closer to him, my elbows sliding slowly over my newly installed counter. Neither of us speak, hesitating to break the spell. I can almost hear the space between us crackle with electricity.
I realize I am acting very unprofessionally… and so is he. I am a business owner, after all. He’s here to fulfill the contract I signed last week. I reluctantly ignore the throb of yearning in my jeans and close my mouth to stop myself from drooling. I give him a brisk nod and turn away, telling him he’d better get started. When I turn back around again, he is already outside, getting the supplies out of his truck. My eyes open a bit wider as he bends over, watching his perfect ass and the red boxers peeking out the back of his jeans.
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