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My heart races, and butterflies swarm through my stomach. Whatever this is between us feels so special, and I hope to God that he feels it too. Quickly undressing, I step into the shower and turn on the taps.
Warm water cascades over me like a tropical waterfall, and after feeling like shit for most of the day, it’s everything I’ve been needing. I let the water wash over my hair before deciding to quickly wash it, only this bathroom is solely used for Georgie, so I have to make do with children’s shampoo.
Ten minutes later, I step out of the shower and towel off my body before getting as much water out of my hair as possible. Wrapping my towel around myself, I start searching through the cupboard and let out a sigh of relief as I find Georgie’s hairbrush and get to work braiding my hair.
Turning to my pile of clothes that lay discarded on the floor—the very clothes I’ve been wearing for nearly two days—I realize just how underprepared I am for this. When we left my apartment, I wasn’t thinking clearly. New clothes? Clean underwear? My phone charger? Shit. If I knew today would have ended in a possible sleepover, I would have come more prepared.
With a cringe and dread resting in the pit of my stomach, I double-check that my towel is on securely before doing the only thing I can do and stepping out of the bathroom. Trudging up the hall toward Sean’s bedroom, I gently knock before poking my head through the door.
Sean stands across the room with his back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of track pants and my gaze eats him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
He’s absolutely gorgeous.
My jaw drops taking him in, my gaze greedily roaming over the strong muscles of his back, and as he turns to face me, I just about collapse from starvation at his bedroom door. My knees go weak, and I try to be respectful, try to remember that this was their room. But damn it, I’m about to come just thinking about another woman’s husband.
Wow.
His skin is perfectly sun-kissed, his shoulders wide and strong, and his chest has me desperate to dig my fingers into him and take a bite. He slowly strides toward me, and I can’t help but settle my gaze on his defined abs. Every passing second has me clenching my thighs and planting my feet on the ground so I don’t jump him.
But what really gets me is the deep V that’s practically a big fucking arrow to what I’m sure is going to be all my Christmases coming at once. “Um . . .” I find myself saying like a complete loser as he grins at me with a knowing smirk. “I, um . . .”
Fuck me, he winked.
I’m a goner.
How the hell did I get this lucky? My perfect match is Shrek, not this glorious man who looks like the best sex I’ll ever have. Any woman looking at his body would risk a spontaneous orgasm. In fact, it’s very possible I’m having one right now.
God, he knows what he’s doing to me.
Reaching me, he pulls the door wider and I suck in a breath just as his hand twines around the back of my neck and pulls me closer, his intense stare holding me captive. My hands brace against Sean’s strong chest, and he doesn’t say a damn word before closing the gap and dropping his warm lips to mine.
He kisses me so deeply that the hunger is almost too much to bear, and as the nagging thought of Sara remains in the back of my head, I pull him out into the hallway, and he instantly presses me up against the wall. I moan into him wanting so much more, but I don’t want to rush what I know he isn’t ready to give.
Sean’s strong hand grips my thigh and pulls it up around his hip as he grinds against me, and a soft moan slips from between my lips, my eyes fluttering with intense need as his rock-hard erection presses against my bare pussy.
His lips drop to my neck, and my nails dig into his back when he pulls back, his breath hard and fast. “Fuck,” he mutters, needing to close his eyes to find control.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my hand moving back to his chest and splaying across his skin.
My heart starts to return to normal, and despite the need pulsing through my veins, I unhook my knee from around his hip, desperately wishing for so much more as I glance up and meet his heavy stare. “You seem to have forgotten your clothes,” I tell him, a poor excuse for not being able to resist him.
“Look who’s talking,” he says, that glorious smirk returning to his lips as his fingers trail across the top of my towel, brushing along the curve of my breast and leaving nothing but burning desire behind. “I was in the middle of getting dressed. You knowingly walked out here in just a towel.”
