"But are you really sure?" Blake asked worriedly. "Because if you're already tired or anything, I could totally---"
"Blake."
Oops. It was his John Wick voice, and since he only ever used it as a polite way of shutting her up, Blake reluctantly took a step back and said with a sigh, "You're the boss."
He was indeed, Thornton thought in self-mocking irony ten minutes later, having seen Blake tiptoe out of her room in a fluffy little robe that barely hid anything. He was her boss, which meant he had absolutely no fucking business sporting a hard-on the moment he caught a glimpse of the tantalizing V of her cleavage and the shapely curves of her naked legs.
He really should have her unit extended, give Blake her own en-suite. The sooner, the better, too, Thornton thought grimly. Seeing her half-naked every damn evening was just pure fucking torture for his cock, with only cold showers to look forward to and not a single hope for sexual---
Shit.
Blake had suddenly looked his way, and their gazes collided as she caught him staring hungrily at her.
SHIT.
He abruptly turned away, but hearing Blake gasp told him it was already too late.
SHIT.
She had seen his erection, and life was going to be hell from here on, now that the damn girl knew her desire for him wasn't one-sided.