She laughed softly, then tapped her keycard and disappeared inside her room. I waited until I heard the soft click of her door before swiping into mine.
The motel room was simple—one bed in the center with a faded red comforter, dated floral curtains, and a faint trace of bleach still lingering in the air. I tossed my bag onto the table, pulled off my hat, and ran a hand through my messy curls before flopping onto the bed in a starfish sprawl.
I stared at the ceiling, letting out a long exhale.
Then, my thoughts drifted.
Ellie was just a few feet away on the other side of this very wall. Showering. The image came uninvited but vivid—her stepping beneath a stream of hot water, her skin slick and flushed, hair tumbling over her shoulders as steam swirled around her.
My chest rose slowly, then fell again, the heat under my skin building.
God, she was beautiful. Not just in the obvious, jaw-dropping kind of way, but in how she moved through the world. So full of light. So fiercely kind. She gave everything—her time, her laughter, her heart—without asking for much in return.
Ellie Cassidy was the kind of woman a man didn’t justwant… she was the kind you waited for, the kind you chose every time, even in silence.
I sat up slowly, scrubbing my hands down my face before pushing myself off the bed. I needed a shower, definitely cold, because the ache pressing behind my jeans wasn’t going anywhere if I kept thinking about her. About her being just on the other side of that wall, warm and naked and completely out of reach.
She had no idea that she starred in every fantasy I’d ever had. No idea that every woman I’d been with was only there for a night because no one else had ever come close. None of them ever felt right because it wasn’ther.
Ellie had always been the only one I wanted.
Years of pent-up emotions were starting to wear me down. Every laugh, every glance, every quiet moment we shared—it was all getting harder to ignore. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could sit back and wait for the right moment.
Time was slipping through my fingers, and maybe—just maybe—this trip was the chance I needed to finally grow a pair and set something in motion.
Because the truth was, I was already in deep. And if she didn’t feel the same… if she looked at me and said no?
I wasn’t sure I could go back to pretending like she didn’t mean everything.
I stripped down and stepped into the shower.
The water poured over me, cold, which shocked my nervous system. Yet, my mind still wandered to her.
I imagined her here with me. Not just in thought, but in body. Close. Naked. Pressed up against me, her breath mingling with mine in the rising steam. Her skin slick with water, her curves fitting against me like they were made to.
This space, this shower, had become something of a sanctuary—and a torment. It was the one place I could let go, let myself feel everything I tried so damn hard to keep buried.Every fantasy of her took root here, deeper and dirtier each time I stepped beneath the spray.
I tilted my head back, water rushing over my shoulders and through the messy curls at the back of my neck. And I pictured her—hands on me, lips parting when I touched her just right, the sound of her breath hitching when I dragged my fingers down her spine.
My favorite fantasy? Her on her knees for me. Needy. Desperate. Eyes full of hunger as she looked up at me, mouth open, taking me deep. I imagined the feel of her, the heat, the rhythm. The way I’d cup her face and praise her—tell her what a good girl she was, how perfect she took my cock.
My hand wrapped around my shaft, slow and certain. I let the thought of her guide me, focusing on how she’d sound, how she’d taste, how she’d fall apart for me. My grip tightened, strokes growing faster, needier. My hips bucked into my own palm, but it wasn’t my hand anymore. It was hers.
I chased the high she gave me without even being here. And when it hit, I came with her name on my lips, biting back the groan that rose from deep in my chest. I spilled into my hand, bracing against the tile as the water rinsed it away.
I stayed like that for a long minute, catching my breath. Frustration simmered beneath the satisfaction. These moments were becoming more frequent. More intense.
She was close enough to touch, close enough to make me ache. Probably naked. I was trying to be respectful. I was trying to be good.
But maybe Mac was right.
Maybe it was time I stopped wondering and finally found out if she felt even a fraction of what I did.
Because if she did?
God help us both.
24
