Passion's Mistral by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

unbuttoning her blouse when Julian turned his attention to the two-way
    mirror again. Bracing his hands to either side of the two-foot-wide panel, he stood there watching as she
    slid the blouse from her slender shoulders and tossed it on the bed. The light beige teddy that covered her
    upper body was trimmed in pale green lace that matched the color of her eyes. As her fingers moved to
    the waistband of her slacks, tugging down the side zipper, his breathing increased. When she pushed the
    slacks down her shapely legs and stepped out of them, he could hear the rush of blood in his ears.
    Losing sight of her as she walked into the bathing suite, he clenched his jaw and turned back to the
    monitor. His hand went to the mouse, moving the cursor to the tub icon on the taskbar.
    She was bending over the faucets, turning the water on in the spa tub as the hidden camera in the ceiling
    tracked her movements. Dissatisfied with the angle, Julian moved the feed to other cameras until he was
    looking at her beautiful face. He zoomed in on her face, held by the dreamy, expectant expression that
    had softened her features. When she raised her hands to pull down first one strap of the teddy then the
    other, he could feel the sweat forming on his upper lip. Though the space in which he stood was air
    conditioned, he felt as though he had been thrust into the gaping maw of an oven.
    Passion, he thought, as he became aware of his hand shaking, especially passion so long denied could
    turn a man into a ravaging beast and that was the thought running through his mind as he watched Silkie
    Trevor peel the teddy from her luscious body. What he saw brought a low growl of need roaring up from
    the very core of him.
    Her breasts were dewy perfect with large areolas tinted a succulent deep rose. As she lifted her arms to
    pull the band from her ponytail, those breasts were firm and high with no telltale surgical lines. The globes
    were like a siren call beckoning him to explore their creamy smoothness. He could almost taste the
    duskiness of the small, hard nipples and ached to run his tongue over the puckered flesh.
    Fire invaded his loins as she squatted down beside the tub. His finger automatically lowered the camera
    view—zooming in on the shadow at the juncture of her legs. The view lasted only a second but it had
    been long enough for him to get a glimpse of a neatly trimmed bush that stoked the fire of his lust even
    higher. He fancied he could smell the heat of her and his nostrils quivered like that of a wild beast.
    Watching her slide gracefully into the water that was now bubbling fiercely from the jets, he reached up
    with his left hand to rub at the headache that was forming in his temple. The tightness in his head mirrored
    the straining tightness beneath the black silk britches, the front of which was slick with the fluid of building
    passion.
    She moved so languidly, obviously enjoying the feel of the warm water caressing her body. The loofah
    she dragged along her arms, across her chest, from side to side over her belly seemed to give her great
    pleasure for her eyes were closed and a slight smile played over her sultry lips. As she brought first one
    leg then the other up to run the fibrous sponge down them, she opened her eyes and appeared to sigh.
    When she finished with her legs, she lay her head back along the cushioned pad behind her and closed
    her eyes once more, apparently just lying there experiencing the tumble and heat of the water, relaxed
    and serene.
    “Enjoy the serenity while you can, sweetness,” Julian whispered, reaching down to rub at the swelling
    between his legs. “I intend to make this assignment as difficult for you as I can.”
    He was about to turn away, to leave her to the rest of her bath but when she lowered the loofah beneath
    the water, he stilled, instinct telling him to leave would be to miss something exquisite.
    There was no mistaking the motion below the tumbling waves. Nor could there have