Read Online A Feast of You by Sorcha Grace - Free Book Online Page B

in.
    Which meant whoever it was had either followed me there on my walk from Beckett’s or...was already inside when I’d arrived.
    Bile burned at the back of my throat. The possibility made sense. Someone could have hidden until I went in the darkroom and then come out and...
    I didn’t want to think about what could have happened or the fact that some creep might have been there, watching me, the entire time. Something bigger was going on and it was finally crystal clear to me that William was right. He’d had a lifetime of experience with threats and extortion attempts. What did I have? A stupid impulse to prove I knew better, which had backfired horribly.
    I let out a huge sigh. I definitely didn’t want to be alone until whoever was pulling this shit was caught. Which meant I’d be staying at the penthouse. That wasn’t so awful, really. I sighed again.
    William must have heard me exhaling because he looked over from his treadmill and gave me a thumb’s up, like he was encouraging me to keep pushing myself in my workout. I smiled back.
    But I wasn’t working out very hard, and in fact, I was barely moving my arms and legs. I’d already expelled enough energy this morning. I really wished I was back upstairs in bed.
    The latest issue of Chicago Now was open in front of me, and I was mindlessly flipping through pages filled with images of beautiful people at various events around the city—boutique openings, charity fashion shows, a debutante ball over the holidays—when something caught my attention. It was a picture of Hutch Morrison at some party, surrounded by about eight women, all sticking their chests out for the camera. I kept staring down at the image of smiling Hutch, whose grin looked a lot like the ‘shit-eating’ kind. Who could blame him, surrounded by a bevy of babes? My new boss—I guess I could call him that—was smoking hot and his ripped body and rock-star tattoos screamed “bad boy.”
    The good kind of bad boy.
    No, really the best kind of bad boy. Judging by the looks of the ladies in the picture, Hutch’s bed wasn’t cold. I was just curious how many of those women had been in it.
    I looked up just as William walked over. He’d finished his workout and had a towel around his neck. He glanced down at the open magazine in front me, and his gaze locked on the picture. Something flickered in his eyes and turned them stormy blue.
    “Are you ready to go? I have an early meeting.”
    Shit.
    * * *
    W illiam didn’t say anything until we were back upstairs, naked, and under the shower jets in the master bath.
    “Keeping tabs on Morrison now?”
    I let the water wash over my hair. “No. I just happened to see him in that picture. I don’t see people I know on the pages of society magazines very often.” I reached for my shower gel, but William already had it in his hands.
    “Interesting that it was Morrison you happened to spot.”
    I wanted to roll my eyes. Did he really think I was interested in Hutch? “Just coincidence.” I held out my hand. “Can I have my shower gel?” He started to hand it to me, and then seemed to think better of it.
    He flicked it open and squirted a small amount into his palm. “Turn around.”
    Since this was the first time in the last fifteen minutes he’d lost that annoyed, pouty expression, I turned. William’s hands started at my shoulders and worked their way down my back, leaving a trail of yummy smelling suds. I heard him squirt more into his palm, and then his hands were on my waist and working their way down my bottom. He moved lower, his hands caressing my thighs and my calves, then back up again to soap my backside.
    “You have a sweet ass, Catherine.”
    I almost laughed. “Thanks.” He didn’t usually go for my butt. William was more of a breast guy, but his hands kneading me there felt pretty good. Then they slipped lower, between my legs. He ran his slick fingers over my sex, and I had a jolt of anticipation.
    “You like this,”