His size alone is enough to make my mouth water. I want to feel him. I can’t wait to taste him.
“My eyes are up here, angel.”
Busted.
Grinning, I meet his gaze, pouring all my admiration into our connection.
I want him, plain and simple.
“I’m nearly done,” he says casually.
My mind takes off again, my attention drifting lower. As he gives his cock a slow stroke, I can’t help but track the movement. I can’t be certain through the glass and steam, but from here, it looks as though a little pearl has gathered at his tip.
“Looks to me like you’re just getting started.” Heat washes over me.
He smirks, eyes crinkling. “Why are you here?” he asks, his tone low and grave. “You told me you had plans?—”
“I did,” I cut in. “But after I got there, I saw your text and came right back to the hotel.”
“Why?” he presses, still choking his length as we casually carry on a conversation through the glass.
Why?
Isn’t it obvious?
“I want to be with you.” My words are honest and raw—a confession I’ve been terrified to speak into existence. Because if the sentiment isn’t requited, or if he’s changed his mind about us?—
“Good answer, angel.”
My heart rate picks up in response to his praise.
“You’re staying the night,” he informs me, his tone still deadly serious.
I can’t help but sass back at that. “So we can just sleep again?”
With a chortle, he steps closer to the door.
Like this, we’re no more than two feet apart, the tile shower floor making him an extra inch or two taller than normal.
I crane back to maintain eye contact. He’s got me right where he wants me now.
“Fuck just sleeping. I’ve had a shit day. I had to wax poetic and staypositive all fucking afternoon, acting like that race wasn’t a total disaster.”
I stay quiet, offering him a safe place to vent. I can be that for him. Lord knows he’s been that for me on multiple occasions.
With a despondent shake of his head, he refocuses on me through the glass. “I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I don’t want to just sleep. I need something real.”
The last line is delivered as a hopeful plea.
Groaning, he rests his forehead on the glass between us. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, angel. Please tell me you’ll stay the night.”
“Yes,” I breathe, my heart rate through the roof, my nerves firing off and anticipation tingling in every limb.
The space between us is too much. I’m desperate to be closer. To soothe him. To give him what he wants. To give in to what we both need.
Beyond eager, I consider joining him under the spray, clothes and all. But before I can reach for the handle of the shower door, he steps back, giving me an incredible view of his full form once more.
He tugs himself harder and faster now. “I won’t last more than a minute at this rate,” he says, his chest heaving.
