The Boys of Oregon Hill Book Five
by
"Don't touch me like that if you don't mean it."
Rémy- One fateful night on the stage of the Royal Opera House, my life was irrevocably changed. Midway through a performance, and in front of thousands of fans, my voice failed me, but instead of giving up, I swore I’d forge a new path. Two years later, my voice was better than ever, and thanks to an old schoolmate, Serge Kuznetsov, I had signed a lucrative contract with the Virginia Opera. It came with many perks, including an alluring personal assistant, Gray Wyatt.
I’d kissed Gray, a mistake a boss should never make with an employee. The feeling of his body trembling in my arms, and the moans that came deep from within his chest, played on repeat in my heated imagination. It didn’t matter where I was, or what I was doing, the memory of that forbidden kiss haunted me.
Gray- When I first moved to Richmond, I envisioned a happy future filled with love and excitement. Instead, my alcoholic boyfriend dumped me, and then I was fired from my crappy retail job, but under very dubious circumstances. I was tempted to throw in the towel, but Lady Luck had one more curveball to throw at me. A new job, as personal assistant to a hypnotic opera singer who made every fiber of my being throb with desire.
Insane tension burned between us. I thought it was my imagination, but I’d swear he wanted me too. Whenever I touched Rémy, his skin would flush, and his breathing would become ragged. There was a boundary I longed to cross, but I didn’t dare. He was my boss, and I wasn’t about to lose my job, because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Until one fateful night backstage when he blew through that boundary, and I longed for him more than ever.
The Boundary is a feverish tale of two men who dared to follow their hearts. It is book five in The Boys of Oregon Hill Series, and it’s set in the same world as the bestselling novel Mr. Mouthful. Like the other books in the series, you can read it as a stand-alone novel.
A text from Rémy hit my phone while I was waiting for the elevator in the lobby of his apartment building.
Door is open- come in
READ MOREWhen the elevator doors slid open, an older woman and two guys my age got off, all smiles. When the doors shut behind me I was the only person on it, and as it climbed up the floors I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls and mouthed, “Be professional” over and over until the doors slid open in front of Rémy’s apartment. Then I crossed myself, though I wasn’t a believer anymore, walked across the hall and opened the door. Standing on the balcony, taking in the morning view was Rémy, wearing nothing but a towel. His back was chiseled, and he had a rectangular, multi-colored tattoo that started right under his sharp shoulder blades and extended down his back, ending somewhere underneath the towel. My mouth dropped open, and I felt a thump in the crotch of my jeans. Thank God his back was turned.
I shut my mouth and strolled across the living room to the balcony doors. When I started to speak only a strangled croak came out at first. Rémy must have heard my footsteps because he turned, smiled and in that perfect low voice greeted me.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.” I mumbled, struggling to keep my eyes above his waist. “Um, so what do you need me to do?”
“We’re going to move a few pieces of furniture around first, and then I have a list of things to be done. I don’t drink coffee, but I do have some for guests. Fix yourself a cup in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” Rémy crossed the balcony, and I stood aside to let him pass. As he did, I inhaled, relishing that woodsy scent that came from him. His hair was still damp, and I wondered if it was the shampoo he used, or did he naturally smell like the sexiest man alive all on his own?
I wandered into the large kitchen and noticed he must have done some unpacking last night. A brand new black coffee maker sat on the marble countertop. I searched the cabinets for coffee, then remembered that since he didn’t drink it himself, he probably kept it in the freezer to keep it fresh.
“Bingo.” I said, pulled out a bag of beans and began to make a desperately needed cup of joe. While the coffee brewed, I noticed a sheet of paper on the counter. I glanced down and saw my name scrawled across the top. It was my to-do list, I assumed, and what a quirky list it was.
Gray,
Please order the following items online. Oh, except for the car, lol. You might have to make a trip to a health food store for the honey and ice cream. Thanks! Rémy .
-Premium Organic Matcha Tea from Pangea Organics and licorice root tea
-Zinc and vitamin C lozenges
-9 humidifiers. The old fashioned kind, not the cool mist.
-2 first-aid kits
-Facial steamer
-Dairy-free cashew ice cream and vegan cheddar cheese, the melty kind
The list seemed endless and filled with stuff I’d never heard of before in my life. And vegan cheese? Yuck. It ended with him asking me to locate a 2012 cherry red convertible Mercedes for sale, and Rémy wondered where a good karaoke bar was.
“Good, you found the list.”
The sheet of paper flew out of my hand. I turned toward him as he strolled into the kitchen, then mumbled, “Sorry, you startled me,” and bent down to pick it up. While I was bent over, I noticed he had on a pair of black Prada sneakers that I used to salivate over when I worked at Thalhimers. As I rose, my eyes stayed glued to him, taking in the distressed blue denim that clung to his well-muscled legs. Then my eyes hit crotch level, and I had to force myself to stand all the way up and focus on his face. Thank God I’d tied my hoodie around my waist and wore a size-too-small pair of boxer briefs.
“Yeah, um, some of this stuff I will have to…” I began, but Rémy interrupted.
“It doesn’t all have to be done at once, just over the next few days. Though, if you could get the raw honey with the comb and the ice cream ASAP I’d be grateful.”
I must have made a face because he laughed.
“What? You don’t like my taste in food?” He leaned back against the counter which of course made his bulge look, well, even bigger than it already was.
“No, I um, well, I’ve never understood why people eat vegan ice cream. Like, why not just eat the real thing?” I asked, then focused my eyes on his right ear so I would not get distracted by his gleaming, perfect teeth.
“Dairy products are bad for the throat. So is coffee.” He waggled his eyebrows, then grabbed a thermos out of a cabinet and handed it to me. “Would you fill this with warm water, please? I have to make a quick call and then we can get started.”
He left the kitchen, and I fumbled with the faucet to get the water the right temperature. As I did, my length pressed against the counter, and I groaned. “Shit,” I muttered. “Now I’m humping his kitchen.”
COLLAPSE
Other Books By Ian O. Lewis
