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A Very Hands-On Consultation

ANICA

I woke up with my face smooshed against a set of abs that could only have been carved by an ancient deity with a personal vendetta against shirts.

For a blissful moment, I thought I’d finally achieved my dream of being transformed into a body pillow for Greek gods, until I realized the abs were attached to my client.

My extremely aroused client, judging by the impressive tent pitched in the general vicinity of my thigh.

Holy. Shit.

Somehow during the night, the careful demilitarized zone we’d established in the middle of the bed had been utterly demolished.

Not only had I crossed enemy lines, I’d apparently annexed the entire territory, planted a flag, and established permanent settlements.

My head was nestled against Callan’s chest, one of my legs was thrown over his, and my arm was draped across his stomach like I was protecting the last cupcake at a birthday party.

But the real kicker? His arm was wrapped around me, holding me close, his fingers tangled in my hair like he was afraid I might escape. Which, had I been fully awake and in possession of my faculties, would have been a very legitimate fear.

For a blissful, drowsy moment, I let myself enjoy the sensation. The steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. The warm, clean scent of his skin. The way our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces designed by a particularly horny jigsaw manufacturer.

Then reality hit me like a bucket of ice water laced with shame and professional ethics violations.

Oh my god. I was cuddling with my client. My very aroused client with a morning situation that could double as a tentpole for a circus. Who I was supposed to be finding a wife for. Who was not supposed to be pressed against me with what feels like nature’s most impressive kickstand.

I carefully extricated myself from our accidental embrace. The last thing I needed was for him to wake up and find me wrapped around him like an octopus with boundary issues.

Too late. As I shifted away, Callan stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked confused, then a slow, lazy smile spread across his face as he registered our position.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice deliciously rough with sleep. “I see the border patrol failed spectacularly at their job. Not only did you cross the border, you annexed the territory and established a dictatorship.”

“I—I must have moved in my sleep,” I stammered, scooting back to my side of the bed. “Sorry about that. I’m not usually a... a cuddler.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied, stretching in a way that made the sheet slip dangerously low on his hips where his boner still stood tall. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in months, actually. You make an excellent blanket. Ten out of ten, would be smothered again.”

“We should probably get going,” I said, desperately changing the subject and ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “The ferry will be leaving soon.”

“Eager to escape, are we?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You seem…um…I’m going to, uh…” I couldn’t keep my gaze from dropping to his dick multiple times. Instead of finishing my sentence, I scrambled off the bed, gathered the clothes from the day before, and scurried towards the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Wait, Anica,” he said, shifting like he was going to get up.

I stared at the ceiling like my life depended on it. “Yes?”

“We should talk about last night.”

“Nope. Last night did not happen as of right now.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his tone switched to something more serious. “To pretend this never happened?”

I paused, my back to him. “I think it’s what we need to do.”

“Not the same thing,” he pointed out.

“No, but it’s the sensible thing. And I’m nothing if not sensible. I’m going to shower,” I announced, fleeing to the bathroom before he could say anything else. “Maybe deal with your issue before I get back.”

“No promises!” He called after me.

Under the spray of lukewarm water (apparently hot water was a luxury the B instead, a strange sense of intimacy had settled between us.

As if the night we’d spent talking in the darkness, sharing secrets and holding hands, had shifted something fundamental in our relationship.

That was the problem. We weren’t supposed to have a relationship beyond the professional. Yet, I was hyperaware of every movement he made, every brush of his arm against mine, every smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Get it together, Anica , I scolded myself.

You are a professional. You have a job to do.

A job that specifically involves finding this man a wife who is not you.

A job that absolutely does not include thinking about those abs or what might have happened if you’d woken up five minutes earlier and decided to explore the territory south of the border.

As we approached Callan’s island, my phone buzzed in my pocket; the first sign of service returning. I pulled it out to find a barrage of notifications filling my screen. The first four were from Mari.

Did you climb him like a tree yet? If not, I’m disowning you as my business partner and best friend.

Hello? Are you alive or did you die from sexual frustration?

If you’re not responding because you’re having wild billionaire sex, I forgive you. DETAILS REQUIRED UPON RETURN.