Oh. My. God.
What I’m I doing? This is wrong. On so many levels. I know it is.
Wide awake now and blood pumping loudly behind my eardrums, I’m glued in place by the sight in front of me, unable to move, even though I know I need to.
Then buzzing filters back in.
My eyes drop. The noise isn’t in my head and it’s not my plumbing. It’s coming from the vibrator at his feet. The full picture of what I walked in on comes crashing in neon pink focus and shatters any hope of self preservation.
I’m a remarkable woman, a smart one, but the implications of the situation turn my brain to a pile of mush. It’s all I can do to stay upright, my knees wobbling as the images of what Emmett was doing before I walked in fill my mind,
It’s an invasion of my privacy. He took something personal and intimate without asking. I should be furious.
And if this were anyone else . . . I would be.
But this is Emmett.
Emmett, who listens.
Who notices.
Who walked a mile with healing ribs just to bring me coffee because he was worried about me.
That realization hits harder than it should, sending warmth spilling through me in a way that makes no logical sense whatsoever.
Heat blooms beneath my skin, low and aching, my body betraying every coherent thought in my head as I stare at the man unraveling behind the steam.
I bite down on my lip, stopping the needy noise that tries to slip free.
Overwhelmed and too hot, I step back. I need space to process all of this.
“Aspen.” My name fractures as it leaves his lips, rough and tender.
My name has never sounded like that before, andgodis it perfect.
Emmett’s powerful body folds, his shoulder heaving as his forehead presses against the tile. He shudders and his release lands in ropes, coating the tile in an obscene mess that washes away too quickly.
I force my eyes up, finding his head bowed and jaw clenched.
He looks fine—no, not fine—steady. Angry but safe.
This is so messed up. I shouldn’t still be here, and my window of escape is closing.
“Fuck!” The curse comes out tight, filled with bitter disappointment. His fist balls, coming to the side of his face, the air in the bathroom turning from hot to thick.
It’s too much to process after the last twenty-four hours.
I fumble for the door behind me, but my fingers slip on the handle, making the loudest noise known to man.
Blue eyes fly open, finding me in the mirror as I scramble to slip through the door and yank it shut.
“Holy shit.”
My fingers cover my warm cheeks, and I slide to the floor against the doorframe. Emotions muddle together and I can’t separate the embarrassment from horniness.
I count backwards from ten, focusing on each breath until I’m steady enough to attempt standing. With the door frame for support, I push up from the ground, ready to run.
But before I can, the door opens behind me.
