Page 35 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

“Georgia, I saw the headline.” He leans forward, his eyes locking with mine.

“I know this isn’t your world, and it’s not what you signed up for when I hired you.

I should’ve prepared you for how my life—and by extension, yours—would change with the announcement that I’d be running for governor. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Annoyance flares in me. “That’s not why I brought it up,” I mutter, shaking my head. Of course, he’d instantly think that this is all too much for me to handle and I’m trying to back out.

“Then why did you bring it up?”

I bite my lip harder because the real reason is ugly, burning jealousy .

I want to know if he was with Minnie for a date, and I hate how much that thought bothers me.

But I can’t say that because it makes me look childish.

I’m sure he’s out there, eating plenty of women’s pussies on the beach just outside his house. I’m not special.

“I just thought you should know,” I whisper, completely avoiding eye contact.

Troy sighs, leaning closer. “If I paid attention to every headline about me now that I’m running for governor, I’d lose my mind.

Politically, I have to stay connected, but socially, I disconnect.

The media is a circus. They lie. They exaggerate.

Sometimes, the stories they tell are planted by me to gain sympathy or support. I ignore all of it.”

“I see…”

“If you haven’t noticed,” he adds, his voice soft but steady, “I’ve never brought her here. Or any other woman, for that matter.”

“Ever?”

He picks up the sponge again, this time pressing it between my legs, right over my clit where he adds extra pressure, scraping it back and forth like it’s intentional.

“Ever, Georgia.”

I let out a soft gasp and nod because the friction he’s providing feels amazing. Is he still washing me or teasing me? I’m not sure.

“It’d be hard to bring someone back here anyways,” his hands dive back beneath the bubbles this time without the sponge, trailing from my foot upwards until it reaches the apex of my thigh, “what do you think a woman would think if she saw you in my home? Taking care of my grandson so tenderly? In my bathtub? In my bed? ”

I draw in a breath when his fingers brush over my opening. I’m under the water, but I know I’m still soaking wet. My clit is thrumming with excitement from the teasing as he brushes it again.

“I’ve never been in your bed before,” I respond.

“Not yet.”

I hiss as his fingers brush across my pussy again.

Teasing, not going where I want them to go.

“I think... I think that they’d think I’m Liam’s nanny,” I respond, my face remaining calm despite his best efforts to get me to crack.

A finger slips inside of my opening and my insides instinctively squeeze around him and clamp down.

He curls that one finger and pumps into me, lazily and I swear I let out a quiet moan.

“Any woman I bring here would be jealous of you, Georgia.”

“Why?” I laugh, the sound hollow despite the question. “Now if it were Minnie...—she’s something.”

Troy shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “You really don’t see it, do you? Your beauty, Georgia, it’s rare. But that’s not what would make a woman jealous.” He leans in, his voice a low rumble. “She’d be jealous because she’d realize I can’t fucking take my eyes or mind off of you.”

And with that, he slides three fingers deep inside of me.

So much for pretending I’m unaffected. My back arches against the cold porcelain, lids flutter shut as he moves, his fingers pumping in and out, deep, and deliberate.

His thumb finds my clit, and my body responds, every nerve alive with the sensation of him touching me, and his words permeating my mind.

“You’re distracting,” he murmurs, leaning closer, his free hand cupping one of my breasts, his fingers flicking my nipple. “This body—it’s consumed my thoughts since that day you sat on me in the steam room.”

“Oh?” I manage, though it sounds more like a breathless sigh.

“Oh,” he confirms with a smile, his fingers still working inside me, his thumb circling against my clit. “When you showed up to the interview, I was excited that I’d see you again, but I was frustrated because I knew I had to hire you.”

“Why?” I ask, lifting my hips to rock up into his hand, desperate to cum.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you again. If I didn’t hire you, you’d have gone back to Texas. And if I did hire you, you’d be off limits to me.”

Shit…

“But I’m starting to break my own rule, because, fuck Georgia, I can’t stop touching you. Stop wanting you.”

My eyes open as I watch him. His gaze is tortured as he works my body higher and closer to my orgasm.

“And I hate that you were scared today. I hate that they did that to you. When I saw those photos… I nearly knocked someone out right there on the sidewalk in the middle of New York City foot traffic.”

His fingers shift, swirling and scissoring inside me, and I’m on the verge of coming when he suddenly pulls back just enough to make me whimper. My hands shoot to his wrists, desperate to keep him there.

He grins. “Don’t worry, I’m not finished with you.”