While my dad dishes out instructions, I open the fridge again, acutely aware of Arkin’s presence in the room. He’s everywhere at once, his intense eyes on my father as he tells him what to do next. I’m not hungry, or thirsty, or any-fucking-thing, but I am intrigued.
For a few moments, I watch him discreetly before reaching for a bottle of sparkling water and unscrewing the cap.
Arkin’s jeans are shredded halfway up his left thigh, and I stare at a patch of olive skin while guzzling the water. When I raise my gaze, I get caught in those intense blue eyes that seem to stare into my soul.
Arkin rests his elbows on the top of the ladder, his veiny big hands distracting me from his intense eyes. My dad keeps talking, and I wish he would shut up for once.
We keep watching each other until my father hands Arkin another tool. He straightens up and then refocuses on the ceiling.
My dad smiles at me over his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”
“Negative.” With one final glance at Arkin, I spin around and head upstairs to shower.
After shutting my bedroom door, I lean against it and let out a defeated curse. This needs to stop. I can’t let myself feel like this around a guy. If my friends find out… If my parents…
No. Hell no.
I push off the door and pull my T-shirt over my head. The sweet, almost sickly scent of Amy’s perfume clings to my clothes, and while I usually like her feminine scent, it makes me nauseous tonight.
Discarding the top in the laundry hamper, I head to the bathroom and switch on the shower. Steam rises, fogging up themirror as I peel off my clothes. I try not to think so hard, but the doubts creep in anyway.
The hot water pours over my head as I step beneath the spray to wash Amy’s scent off me, scrubbing my hair vigorously before dragging my fingers down my face and spitting out water. Images of Arkin on the ladder play unbidden beneath my eyelids—the way the muscles strained in his arms… and those fucking eyes.
With a curse, I rest my hand on the tiled wall as water pours from my nose in a steady stream, my cock at full mast and hard as fuck.
“Shit…” I reach down to wrap my fingers around my throbbing length, and a tingle of pleasure threatens to buckle my knees.
Holy fuck.
I groan out loud. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I was this pent-up.
“Dammit.”
Another hot surge of hot pleasure tingles my balls as I glide my hand over my cock and squeeze a bead of pre-cum from the weeping head.
The wave crests and I begin to pant as I stroke in long pulls, imagining it’s Arkin’s fingers instead of mine—imagining how amazing it would feel to have him touch me instead.
My heart pounds as I fuck my hand. It won’t take much at all to come. Not tonight. Not when it feels this damn good.
I suck in a breath, and my hips stutter. But then I become aware of a shadow behind the shower curtain and stop.
What the fuck? Is someone in here?
My cock pulses painfully as I whip the curtain open. Arkin stares back at me, leaning casually against the wall.
I swallow, aware of how hard my cock is in my hand, and when his darkening eyes fall down my naked body, my lengthtwitches in my grip. Arkin remains silent as a wave of anger rises inside me.
“You like to watch?” I spit while jerking myself almost aggressively.
If he wants to be a fucking creep and watch, I’ll give him a show.
I pick up the pace, shamefully aroused, and Arkin watches me fuck myself like I would if I was alone. I don’t hold back for once because what’s the point? He has already seen me.
Arkin hardly even blinks. What’s going through his mind?
I was aroused before, but it doesn’t compare to how turned on I am jerking off with him there. I keep going, stroking, pulling, and tugging.
“You like what you see?” I taunt. “Huh? Does this get you off?”
