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He growls again. “No, you didn’t. You were both doing it to get back at me.”
That shuts me up, the words torn right from my mouth. Is he right? Was I jumping at the chance to hook up with Cooper because I really wanted Ethan and couldn’t have him? The truth is mortifying. Because he’s right, and I didn’t even realize it.
“And why would Cooper want to get back at you?”
“A lot of reasons, but mostly it’s because we’re competitive and sometimes we can’t help ourselves,” he says. “Next question.”
“Okay, but you have to answer it fully this time,” I demand, to which he doesn’t agree, but I ask the question anyway. “Why do you keep saying I’m yours?”
“Let’s just say you’re my type, and everybody who knows me, knows that.”
Not what I was expecting. I’m his type? If I’m his type, then why has he pushed me away? Why has he been so mean to me?
“I didn’t want you to be my type, Arden, especially with you being so young, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are,” he continues. “And I’m not going to pretend anymore.”
He doesn’t elaborate or answer any more questions, and before long the storm begins to quiet and we both fall asleep.
I dream that he kisses my forehead, my check, my nose, his soft mouth hovering over my lips.
Gently. Sweetly.
When I wake the next morning, I wake up alone. My hips are sore from sleeping on the wood floor and my neck is stiff, so I’m slow to crawl from the haven of warm blankets.
Did I only dream of kisses last night or were they real? My mind could be playing tricks on me but I swear at least one of those . . . I shake my head. No. I can’t let my imagination take me to the places I won’t be able to return from.
The storm has passed, but it’s left a mess in its wake. The yard is littered with tree branches and I can only imagine how bad it is down in the flood zones. I hope everyone down there evacuated.
Exploring the outside of the house first, the only damage appears to be the branch that crashed through the primary bedroom. Besides that, the house is relatively unscathed. A few shingles will need to be replaced, but we’re lucky.
I’m certain not everyone was as lucky.
I head back inside, looking for Ethan. His bedroom door is open and I slip inside. The shower is going and the bathroom door is open.
I shouldn’t look.
Leave, give him privacy.
But does he want privacy? Because these doors have locks and he not only left them unlocked but also open.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I peek around the doorframe.
The glass shower is at the end of the bathroom, faintly steamed up but not enough to hide his lithe body from view. He’s standing under the spray, his naked backside to me. I never really got the appeal when girls would say a guy’s butt is cute, but I get it now. His ass is perfectly sculpted just like the rest of him and my fingers flex, wanting to know what his skin feels like under that water.
The man is stunning, those muscles gently flexing as he washes himself, streams of white soap suds running down his tanned skin to pool at the drain. I feel like I just walked on the set of a movie or something because Ethan is movie-star gorgeous. I should leave, but I can’t move. I stand there in a daze, watching as he finishes rinsing himself.
And then he turns and I lose all sense of thought. He’s in profile as he palms his erection with one hand and presses the other hand to the glass. Slowly, he begins to pump. His eyes are closed, his mouth is open, letting the water in and around him. His hand is large, covering most of his cock, but not everything. It’s too big.
He pumps harder and groans, and then he says my name.
Oh. My. God.
I gasp and he whips his head toward me. Our eyes lock.
This is the part where I run away.
But I don’t run away. It’s as if I couldn’t move away if I tried. Something primal comes over me, like I’m channeling someone else, someone brazen who isn’t afraid to watch him pleasure himself. To lock eyes with him as he does it.
His stare is fixed on me as he continues to clutch himself, his muscles rippling with each movement. He doesn’t say a word and neither do I. We’re locked in a staring contest, a game of chicken. Who will spook first?
