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He brings his mouth down onto mine. I feel him pushing my shoulders backward until the cold, hard wall is at my back. He’s left me no escape, nowhere to run.

Not that I would even think about running.

His hard body presses against mine, imprisoning me between the wall and his muscular chest. The heat radiating from his body is like the hot sun scorching my skin. I run my hands between our bodies, down his tight abdomen. He jerks in response to my touch.

I feel his arousal pressing into me through the light material of his boxers. I wriggle against him, trying to get closer, to feel more. He grinds against me, and a gasp escapes my open mouth.

His lips are on mine again, and I taste the sweet and heady flavor of the red wine as our tongues meld together. Whatever control was holding him back before has let loose and the full force of Dax is upon me. His unyielding mouth captures mine again, this time rougher and more frenzied. I can’t think straight anymore. The combination of wine and Dax has my mind in splintered fragments of erratic thoughts.

For the briefest moment, rational thought tries to push its way in. I consider pushing him away, but the desire building between us is too much to ignore. I can’t deny this, or him, any longer. This is what I’ve been wanting since we started the trip, maybe before that. Once I saw him in the shower, I knew I was done for. I’ll never forget the image of him soaping himself up, rubbing himself . . .

Oh God. The shower.

Damn it.

I have to fess up. I don’t want to tell him, but I have to. The secret is killing me. I can’t go through with whatever is happening here if I don’t tell him what I did.

I tilt my head back and squeeze my body into the wall to break contact with him. “Dax, I have to tell you something.”

“Hmm?” He moves over to my ear, takes the lobe into his mouth, and sucks before nipping gently. He moves down my neck, kissing and sucking as he goes.

“Dax, stop. I have to tell you something.”

“Tell. Me. Later,” he says in between kisses and nips on my neck.

As mortifying as it is, I have to tell him. “I saw you in the shower,” I blurt out.

There. I said it.

He chuckles against my neck. “Babe, I know. And it was probably one of the hottest moments of my life, knowing you were watching me. Were you as turned on as I was?”

I push back on his shoulders to get him off my neck. I thought I was mortified before, but that was nothing.

“Wait. You knew I was there? Oh my God.”

“Did you like what you saw?” he asks in a low voice.

“No! Well, yes. Why didn’t you say anything?” I accuse, poking my finger into his chest.

He grabs my finger and slips it into his mouth, sucking gently. When he pulls my finger back out, he has a feral look in his eyes. “Because I was imagining you doing this to me. I had to pleasure myself, but it was your mouth wrapped around my cock while I was doing it.” He brings my finger back into his mouth, sucking harder this time.

My eyes close, and my pulse races. The images his words bring to my mind are too much. I force my eyes open to gauge his reaction to my confession.

“I shouldn’t have watched you like that,” I squeak out.

“That was very naughty of you to watch like that,” he agrees. Then his voice drops. “Lucky for you, I like a little bit of naughty.”

“You do?” I choke out.

“Oh, hell yes, I do. But I need you to be a good girl now and tell me the truth. Were you turned on while watching me?”

I nod my head. “Yes.”

He looks pleased at my answer. His finger flicks my nipple, then massages it before continuing with his questions. “And did you touch yourself while you watched me?”

Heat washes over my face, and I shake my head. “No,” I say unsteadily, untruthfully.

He removes his hand from my breast and grasps my chin, then he tilts my face up to his. “No? Are you sure? You didn’t touch yourself at all while you watched me? While I was thinking about my cock being buried deep in your throat, you weren’t touching yourself? Tell me the truth.”