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When I didn't immediately freak out, demand he leave—because the last thing I wanted was for him to leave—he fell back against the wall. Like his legs were weak. Like they refused to hold him up anymore.
"Fuck," he hissed.
I couldn't hear him over the splashing of the water on the tile floor or the pounding of my heartbeat. But I watched his lips form the word, watched his breath rush out of his chest as his head dropped back onto the wall.
His gaze was on me, eyes molten, as his breath started to get faster.
Mine tripped into overdrive to match.
I sucked in a slow, deep breath, watching as his gaze followed the motion, slipping down over my breasts, then lower, then back up again.
I needed to tell him to go.
We needed to stop this before it got out of control.
It was stupid and reckless.
But me, well, I liked things a little bit out of control.
I liked being stupid and reckless.
And, apparently, shameless.
Because with his gaze on me, I took another deep breath as I started to move my fingers against my clit again.
Santi's eyes closed for one moment before opening again, even hotter, hungrier than before. Which only spurred me on.
I had no shame about sex. That said, I'd never stood in front of a man naked who was watching me as I worked my clit.
That said, I'd clearly been missing out.
Because the look in Santi's eyes nearly made me come right then and there.
My breathing got faster, more shallow, as I drove myself up.
A small, throaty moan escaped me. The sound made Santi's head jerk to the side a little, his jaw so tight that his teeth must have ached.
More.
I wanted more.
I wanted him as far gone as I felt.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted my leg out to the side, resting it on the shower seat, giving him a better view as I slid a finger down my cleft, and slipped it inside me.
"Fuck," Santi growled.
Whatever control he had right then snapped as he reached for his fly, working the button and zipper free, then reaching inside.
My walls tightened hard, realizing what was happening.
I was riding the high of pleasure and power as Santi pulled out his thick cock, eyes on me as he started to stroke it.
I'd done that.
Gotten him beyond reason with need.
Without touching him.
Without saying anything to him.
"Don't stop," Santi growled, making me realize my fingers had paused as I stood mesmerized, watching him stroke himself.
My fingers started moving again.
Both of us had our eyes pinned on the other, gazes moving back and fourth from face to where our hands were busying themselves.
It was the single hottest moment of my life as we both started to work our hands harder, faster, too desperate for release to take it slow, to drag it out.
A loud moan escaped me as I felt pushed to that edge, teetering there.
"Fuck," Santi growled, body stiffening.
He was going to come.
And with that realization, I flew over that edge, crashing down into my orgasm as Santi found his own with a savage curse, his free hand curling into a fist and slamming backward into the tiled wall.
It was about, you know, right then that I realized what an epically bad idea it had been, as we both stood there, recovering, coming back into our rational minds.
Because, yeah, we were going to have to face each other after this. We were going to need to talk and brush shoulders. And somehow act like we hadn't engaged in some mutual masturbation like a couple of teenagers.
God.
"Alessa..." Santi started after he tucked himself away. I had no such means to cover myself.
But, thankfully, the universe chose to be kind in that moment.
"Dad! Less! We brought donuts!" Avi called, making Santi stiffen.
He paused to give me a look of uncertainty.
"Go," I demanded in a soft whisper, not wanting Avi or his grandmother to walk in on us staring at each other while I was naked in the shower.
He gave me a tight nod before rushing out.
I hadn't even washed my hair, but I turned off the water, dried off, and quickly got into my clothes, then rushing out into the main area to find Santi's mom, Celeste, unloading a couple of grocery bags onto the oversize island.
Celeste was a stunning woman. She had to be to produce her gorgeous sons, since Arturo, her dead ex, the men's father, wasn't too much to write home about.
But Celeste was tall and lithe with sleek dark hair, sharp features, and green eyes.
After spending so many of her years imprisoned where anything pampering or fancy was denied to her, you never found the woman without flawless hair, makeup, and nails. She had one of the bodies that looked great in anything, but she often chose maxi dresses that hugged her figure without being skintight. I'd seen the woman a few times since I started working for Santi, and every single time, she'd been wearing icepick heels.
