Detouring to his main door, I ensure it’s locked and dead bolted as well.
I doubt anyone else has access, but the extra assurance quells some of my nerves.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I stroll through the space.
His suite is a mirror image of mine. He also has a luxe kitchen and a nice living area. Why the hell did I end up in the same room category as the team principal?
When I don’t find him in any of the main living spaces, I wander to his bedroom. I discover it empty as well, and my heart sinks. But then I notice the triangle of light and follow it to the bathroom door, which is open a couple of inches.
“Alaric?” I call out again as I enter the space.
The shower is on, steam filling the air.
Alaric’s in the shower. Naked. A thrill courses through me.
Shamelessly, I tiptoe closer. While I haven’t received a straight-forward invitation, he did send me that sweaty thirst trap. And he lefthis door cracked open, after all. If those clues were meant to show me that he wanted privacy, then I’m way off the mark.
“Alaric?” I round the corner, and the glass-enclosed marble shower comes into view.
And oh, what a view it is.
The man I can’t stop thinking about is standing in the middle of the shower, legs spread wide with his back to me. His tan skin highlights the defined planes of his bare back, though the steam on the door prevents me from seeing his ass. He’s totally stripped down, powerful and domineering even without an audience.
“Alaric,” I repeat, worried I’ll startle him.
He turns his head and drinks me in over his shoulder. When our eyes meet through the condensation, my knees wobble. His expression is intense. Heated. Borderline predatory.
Turning completely, he steps forward and places his palm on the glass between us.
Drawn to him the way I always am, I drift forward.
Licking my lips, focus still fixed on his face, I align my hand with his and press it to the clear surface between us.
“You’re here,” he says, his words echoing off the tile walls of the cavernous bathroom.
I inhale deeply, filling my lungs, forcing myself to stay focused on his face. “I’ll wait for you out in the living room.”
Scowling, he gives a lethal, slow-motion shake of his head. “Stay right there where I can see you.” The words may be distorted because of the echo of the bathroom, but that doesn’t make them any less impactful. Or hot.
“Not fair,” I sass, taking a step back. “The glass is fogged up. I can barely see anything.”
A wicked smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
The look sends giddiness careening through me. I’ve experienced this man in caretaker mode and professional leader mode. He is good at his core. But like this? Naked, needy, and unmaskedfor me? This is a version of Alaric I can’t wait to acquaint myself with, intimately and thoroughly.
Without breaking eye contact, he lays his forearm on the door and makes a sweeping motion.
My heart thunders in my ears.
Holy. Shit.
With the condensation cleared, his full frame comes into focus.
His thighs are thick and dusted with dark hair, perfectly framing his impressive length. The man is hard and hung.
He grips himself with one big hand, and still, it only covers about half the shaft.
My pussy flutters as my imagination runs wild.
