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“He streamed the audio into my cell.”
For a couple of seconds, disbelief floods me. But then, it settles.
I don’t even know why I’m surprised. It’s such a JD thing to do.
“Sorry.”
“Why? Sounded like you enjoyed it.”
“I… I… shit. Mav. That isn’t fair.”
Lifting both hands, he covers his face, cutting off our connection.
His pain and frustration is palpable, hanging heavy in the room between us.
“I’m gonna go and…” My words trail off because, honestly, I’ve no idea what I’m doing. Running away?
Never in the past five years have I ever wanted to run away from Mav. But despite hiding his face from me, I can see his wrecked expression as clear as day in my mind.
He’s held back for five years, for whatever reason he’s convinced himself of. I can only imagine what kind of hell it was to listen to another man taking me. A man he can’t stand.
Knowing I’ve been out fucking others is one thing, but listening to it, experiencing it, is another.
“Alana,” he says before I get to the door, making my steps slow. “I’ll always love you, I need you to know that.”
I hang my head feeling like the shittiest person in the world.
“It’s not always enough though, is it?”
Without another word from either of us, I leave him to his bath.
I swear, I don’t breathe until I get out into the hallway. But the second my eyes land on JD’s door, the tension in my shoulders returns.
Before finding out that he live streamed our little fuck fest in the hallway straight into Mav’s cell, I probably would have made a beeline to JD’s room, especially after the dark look that was lingering in his eyes when he handed me that tray not so long ago. But now, I drop my eyes to the carpet and continue down to Reid’s room.
Swinging the door open, I pad past the bed. I don’t see or hear anything, my head is still in the guest bathroom with Mav.
I shouldn’t have left him.
Pushing the bathroom door open, I step inside, arguing with myself about turning around and going back. The fact the room is full of steam doesn’t register. Nothing does until movement in front of me catches my eye.
“Oh fuck.” I gasp so loudly that my voice is clearly heard over the torrent of water.
Any images I had in my head about how Reid Harris looks standing behind that glass shower screen with water rushing over his muscles are shot to shit the second my eyes land on reality.
And ho-ly fucking shit.
“The fuck are you doing?” he barks, quickly cupping his junk.
But it’s too late. I’ve already seen it all.
“I-I—” I stutter like a schoolgirl who’s just had her first look at a semi-hard pierced dick.
My apology sits heavy on my tongue. It almost sneaks out before I remember what happened downstairs. And the second I do, my back straightens and my shoulders widen.
Our eyes hold in a battle of wills as my temperature surges and my heart rate increases.
Your husband is in the bathroom down the hallway, you whore.
