Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
With a gulp, I toe off the sneakers I’ve been wearing all day and drop my pants, followed by my basic white underwear. I’m the only member of staff still left in the restaurant, and I don’t have time to return to the motel to change. Draven is still in the kitchen working on some secret sauce that sits on the stove in a giant pot, but surely, he doesn’t use the same employee locker room as the lowly kitchen workers he orders around, right?
I should be safe for a quick change.
I stoop forward and drag the thong up my legs, wincing at the cinch of tight satin between my butt cheeks. It’s not…unpleasant, I suppose, but they’re the smallest size possible and I have to wonder if that is on purpose. They barely cover my privates.
The fishnets come next, the waistband reaching a few inches above my belly button, and I turn my butt to the full-length mirror that is affixed to the wall, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head at the lack of coverage. Thank goodness I have my coat to cover up on the way down the road or I would swiftly be arrested for public indecency. Knowing I’m going to be late to my shift if I stall any longer, I whip off my shirt and stare down at the tassels, fretting. How the heck do I make them stick to my breasts? Is there a tape I’m supposed to use?
I’m resigned to pocketing the tassels and hustling my way to Swet, praying that one of the other waitresses will have some spare adhesive…
When the door of the locker room swings open and bumps off the wall behind me.
Heart in my mouth, I whirl around without thinking, my body going into fight or flight mode. I hold my hands out to ward off an attacker, but they change direction and cover my breasts when I see the man standing in the doorway is Draven.
Oh. My. God.
I’m standing in front of my mean, hot-tempered boss in fishnets and a thong.
Topless.
My hands are cupping my bare breasts now, but there was a good three seconds where they were totally uncovered—oh, and he definitely saw them. I can still feel the caress of his shocked gaze on my nipples. His bunched jaw and glittering eyes are my next clue that he just witnessed me totally nude from the waist up. From the waist down, I’m not hiding anything, either. The thong barely shields the seam of my sex.
Might as well face facts. I’m totally about to get fired. Draven runs a strict environment, and he already wanted me gone the moment I stepped foot in the kitchen earlier tonight.
This is going to be the straw that broke the camel toe’s back.
“Um.” I decide to brazen it out. My bravado worked for me before with this man, didn’t it? “This locker room is employees only. As the owner, you really shouldn’t be in here.”
“This is my restaurant, Claire. I’ll go where I want.” He steps into the small room, letting the door smack shut behind him. “And what the fuck are you wearing?”
“Um, hello. It’s a waitressing uniform,” I croak. “Ever heard of one?”
“Being that I own a restaurant, yes, I have.”
Inwardly, I wince.
Right.
“Well,” I say, shrugging. “Not all establishments are as upscale as this one.”
Draven points at me, a lump moving high and low in his throat. It becomes obvious to me in that moment how hard he’s struggling not to ogle me. Throw in the way he defended me to his lecherous brother earlier and I can’t help but acknowledge there’s a good man lurking beneath his grumpy façade. “Where do you waitress in a uniform like that?”
His brother knew about the uniforms worn at Swet.
Draven doesn’t.
My tummy does a little flip at the nugget of information that he doesn’t frequent the nightclub where women walk around half naked. I’m…glad he doesn’t. Very glad.
Why?
Do I have a mini crush on my boss?
When he takes another step in my direction and I’m flushed with heat, I admit to myself that maybe the crush isn’t so mini. In fact, when my core flexes and dampens over the increasing proximity of this man, I worry the crush might be…maxi.
“It’s called Swet. And this isn’t the whole uniform,” I rush to say, sounding breathless.
Draven gives up his noble fight, finally allowing his eyes to devour me, thighs, belly, that clenching part of my anatomy barely hidden by the thong. “Where is the rest of the uniform?” he asks, his chest puffing up and down, those long fingers clenching into fists at his sides.
“Mmmm.” My face flushes as I indicate the nipple shields with a nod. They’ve landed on the ground at my feet. “There.”
My boss is already shaking his head adamantly. “You’re not going anywhere in that.”