Noticed: Gently Hers Book 1

By Goldie Wright

Desire burns when timid Ethan meets a beautiful, yet daunting coworker. Hannah is the type of woman who men long to serve and worship.

As the two of them grow closer, he is drawn to the gentle dominance beneath her polished surface. She is always quick to praise him.

Becoming her roommate only draws them closer.

Ethan has no idea that Hannah wants him as much as he wants her.

But he will.

"Noticed" is a novella of 18k words, and a standalone book of the "Gently Hers" series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Goldie Wright
• Release date: May 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463013410

Goldie Wright

Goldie Wright lives in the US. Fiction writing is one of her many pursuits, but she has also been known to stargaze and spend far too much time on the internet.

Book preview

NOTICED

BOOK 1 OF THE GENTLY HERS SERIES

Copyright 2019 Goldie Wright

All Rights Reserved

Published by Goldie Wright at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, items, and events are either the product of the creator's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead; events; items; businesses; or places is purely coincidental.

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1

He's noticed the way that she looks at him. Snatches glances of him. Smiles at him. Not brightly, just a little half-smile that makes it seem like she's sharing a secret. It's wonderful, even if it seems like a trick. When did it start, her looking at him like that? Hard to remember ...

No. No, that's not quite true, is it? He knows exactly when all of it started. Acknowledging it directly, that's a different matter. Because if he acknowledges it, then things might change. He doesn't want them to change, doesn't want her to stop looking at him in the hungry way that she does. He knows it's wrong. That men are supposed to want, and women are supposed to be wanted. Having things the other way around is unnatural.

But him ... he's different. Always has been.

* * *

It had started with the shoes. Her shoelaces actually. He didn't know her name, not then, but he knew that she liked walking to work, or, at least, that she preferred wearing running shoes in the morning. The shoes made that obvious. Seeing those brightly colored shoes paired with a crisp, conservative black skirt and pale blouse had been an incongruity, and incongruities tended to draw looks.

Ethan had looked. He tried not to look at people — looking meant talking and talking meant questions — but he had looked at her that early morning after they had both caught the same elevator.

So things had really started with this:

She had slipped a hand through the closing doors, popping them open, and then joined him. In the lobby outside the elevator, the sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows had still been black. In his case, it had been more of a late day than an early morning. He'd started working at night and hadn't stopped. Had still been working at that point.

The woman looked up and smiled at him, not one of the warm half-smiles that she would later give him, but a quick, tepid smile, the sort that women reserved for strange men, and he realized that he had been staring at her. He quickly looked at the floor instead. The florescent orange and yellow of her running shoes invited his stare, mostly because the laces of her right shoe, the one closest to him, had come loose.

His fingers had twitched to tie them. He flattened his palms against his trousers, urging his stupid brain to shut up for once.

She had leaned forward to press a floor button, and then, for seemingly no reason at all, let her hand drop away before pressing any of them. The doors finally, mercifully closed, and his stomach dropped a little as the elevator began its climb.

You're one of the IT guys, right?

That could only be directed toward him. There was no one else in the elevator, and she didn't seem to be talking on a phone or a wireless earpiece. He blinked as he came back to himself, shifting his gaze fully on her. She was looking at him. Staring at him. People always stared at him for some reason, maybe because they wanted an explanation for his natural shyness. She had probably been thinking that a man shouldn't act like that, a man shouldn't be like that, a man shouldn't —

Had he been staring again? He might have been. Looking away to the space above her head, he said, Yeah, I'm one of them. Have ... have we met?

Shit, that sounded like a pick-up line.

I mean, he said, have I fixed your computer or some other sort of issue?

She shook her head. No.

He risked another glance. Just a glance, that was all. She was younger than him by a decade, maybe a little more. In her twenties or early thirties. The blouse paired with her women's suit was cream-colored, not white, and high on her throat. A strict-looking outfit, but fashionably cut, like something a sexy librarian might wear, except for the running shoes, and ... and he really needed to not think of her as a sexy anything.

But it had been too late to bind up such thoughts. His traitorous cock had begun to stir, straining against the placket of his trousers. He carefully shifted his laptop bag from his hip to his crotch.

Being aroused so easily was depressing. Fuck, when was the last time that he had actually had sex?

I've seen you floating around, she continued.

You have? he said, more out of surprise than any desire to continue this increasingly awkward conversation.