Juliette and the Billionaire Boss: The Christchurch Billionaires (A Boss in a Billion Book 9) by Serenity Woods

Author:Serenity Woods [Woods, Serenity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Henry

Someone murmurs in my ear, “I’m going to take a shower,” rousing me from the depths of a dark slumber.

“Mmph.” Still in the mists of dreamland, I figure I’ve conjured up the soft skin and low voice of the woman I love. I imagine I feel the person move off the bed and hear the bathroom door closing.

Then my eyes spring open. Juliette!

I blink a few times, trying to reboot my brain. I’m lying on my front, facing the window. Light streams through the gap in the curtains, a bright buttery yellow, so it’s past sunrise—six-thirty maybe? Seven? I lift my head and turn it to the other side. The bed is empty, but the indentation in the pillow and the sheet are a sign that I didn’t dream her.

I push up onto my elbows, pull her pillow toward me, and bury my face in it. It smells of her perfume and the sweet scent that is all her.

Jeez, I was so tired last night, and inebriated. I can only remember about sixty percent of everything that happened, and I have a feeling my performance was distinctly less than average. It’s Huxley’s fault, plying me with whisky. Well, I’m not drinking today. Have some willpower, dude.

I debate whether to wait until she comes out, then decide the opportunity to savor a wet, slippery Juliette is too good to be missed. I rise, yawn, stretch, collect my phone and—with a smirk—a condom, then go over to the bathroom door. I can hear the shower going. And she’s humming. That’s a good sign.

I knock, open the door a crack, and say, “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” she calls back. “I’m in the shower.”

I go in. She’s in the cubicle, her body visible as a light-brown shadow through the steamy glass walls. I look at myself in the mirror and wince. My stubble is too untidy to be anything close to designer. My eyes are slits. My hair is all over the place.

“I need to pee,” I mumble. “Do you mind?”

She laughs. “Fire away, sunshine. As long as you don’t mind me watching.” She clears a patch of steam, and her brown eyes appear, lighting with amusement as she spots my hair. “Feeling a little hungover, are we?”

Deciding it’s too late for pride, I leave my phone and the condom on the sink, lean on the tiles behind the toilet, and pee. I hear her laugh as it goes on forever, and sigh. When I’m done, I flush the toilet, wash my hands, then pick up my phone. I bring up Spotify, choose The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love, and set it playing. Then I walk over to the shower and open the door.

“It’s occupied,” she says, giving me a mischievous smile.

“That’s the least of my worries.” I get in, forcing her to move into the corner of the cubicle, and close the door behind me.

“There’s no room,” she complains, although by the way her eyes have widened, I don’t think she’s bothered.

“We’ll just have to stand very close together.

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