The second I step into the bathroom, I freeze in front of the mirror. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. She looks, dare I say...sexy.
I look like a disheveled mess, in the best way possible.
My cheeks are a rosy shade of red, and my lips are swollen and plump, looking like I’ve been freshly kissed. I run my fingers through my dark curls, taming the wild waves.
My breasts are heavy and flushed, my nipples tender and satisfied.
The bare space between my legs is slick, shiny beneath the fluorescent bathroom light. The evidence from my orgasm is still dripping down my inner thighs.
I groan and shake my head.
“You’re down bad, girl,” I whisper to my reflection.
I tear my gaze away from the mirror and step into the luxurious shower. It’s sleek and modern with floor-to-ceilingglass walls, but frosted just enough to blur everything into discreet shapes and shadows. Since Owen and I are sharing a bathroom, it’s nice that the shower is mostly private.
The tile chills the bottom of my feet as I slide the door shut behind me.
I reach for the handle, my fingers curling around the metal as I prepare to turn the water to full heat.
But right before I crank the handle, I freeze—my entire body paralyzed by the soft click I just heard.
The bathroom door creaks open.
No.
No. No. No. No.
This can’t be happening right now.
I’m buck-ass naked!
My heart drops to my ass as I slowly turn my head toward the glass wall. Through the blurry panel, a tall silhouette with wide shoulders moves lazily into the room. Even through frosted glass, I would recognize that body anywhere.
From what I can see, he’s wearing no shirt and boxer briefs.
Owen.
Because of course it’s Owen.
This is just my luck. The one freaking morning I decide to shower at six o’clock, Owen walks in at the exact same time.
Panic spikes through my chest as my skin grows slick with sweat.
He definitely thinks I’m asleep. There’s no way he would just barge in here if he thought otherwise.
Owen shuffles across the tile, completely oblivious, before stopping right in front of the toilet, which is like a foot away from the shower.
Shit!
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Do something, Meadow!
I scramble to the farthest corner of the shower, pressing myself flat against the wall and praying like hell that he won’t notice me. Maybe he’s half asleep and will have no memory of even coming in here.
A choppy breath slips past my lips, so I clamp a trembling hand over my mouth to keep from making a peep.
From where I stand in the corner, all I can see is his back—a hazy vision of his broad shoulders and sleep-mussed hair. I push down a sigh as I watch him stretch his arms over his head, his muscles shifting in the most delicious way.
