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My orgasm washed over me in waves, and I longed to cry out, but I stifled all noises. As I came down, I was all too aware that Asher wasn’t here. I was alone in this shower, and he was so close but yet completely unaware that I’d just brought myself to orgasm while fantasizing about him.
I dried myself off and wiped away the steam that clouded the mirror. That was when I glimpsed my flushed cheeks and the slight glow that had come over my face. We still had a full hour before we were due downstairs, though, so it would be gone by then.
A strange banging noise pulled me from those thoughts. I looked in the direction of the closed bathroom door. Was someone on the other side of it? Maybe they were doing construction somewhere on the floor.
“Sammie?”
No, that was definitely not construction. That was a male voice, saying my name. That was Asher’s voice.
Panicking, I snatched up my towel and wrapped it around myself. I tiptoed to the bathroom door, pressing my body against it as though he had any interest in coming in here.
“Asher?” I asked.
“I’m going downstairs to grab a drink at the bar,” he said.
The voice was too far away for him to be on the other side of this door. He was outside the door to my room. I stayed put, though. Two doors between us were a good thing when I was naked.
“O-okay,” I stammered.
“If you want to join me, come on down.”
Silence. Had he walked away? I held my breath and a few seconds later, I heard a door slam shut.
“Asher?” I asked, testing the waters.
No response. He was gone.
I leaned back against the door, clutching the towel to my chest. It was a ridiculous thought, but I felt like he was onto me. He knew exactly what I’d been doing and now he had to head downstairs to get away from me.
If that were the case, though, why would he have invited me downstairs? No, he had no idea what was going on behind the closed bathroom door on the other side of the closed bedroom door. The best thing I could do was get dressed and head downstairs.
But the thought stuck with me as, more than twenty minutes later, I entered the hotel bar, wearing one of the two skirt suits I’d brought. My hair was pulled back in a French twist, and I’d applied makeup in preparation for a sales meeting. I was in full-on professional mode.
One look at Asher, though, crumbled my steely façade. He sat at the bar, his back to me, but I couldn’t stop staring at those broad shoulders, those muscular arms, stretching the sleeves of his white button-down shirt… My thoughts instantly went to my shower fantasy. His chest anchoring me in place as his fingers slid inside me—
“Miss Benson,” Asher said with a nod as I took the barstool next to him.
I wasn’t ready to face him. Not with the thought I’d just had. I struggled to catch my breath and force out a response, but all I could manage was a nod.
Eyes narrowed, he looked at me, and that was when I saw his face. He looked stressed—not at all relaxed like I felt right now. Maybe he should have had a little release in the shower too.
Maybe I could have helped him with that.
“Hi.”
A bartender was standing in front of me, setting a cocktail napkin closer to his side of the bar than mine. Looking at him grounded me a little. It also made me aware that one look at Asher made it impossible to keep my head on straight. That shower fantasy had messed with my head.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asked.
As I ordered the Christmas martini, I was all too aware of the man next to me. His presence seemed to fill whatever area he was in, but for the first time, I didn’t feel intimidated. At some point during our drive, I’d gotten a little more comfortable around him.
“You took a shower,” Asher said when the bartender moved to the other side of the bar to make my drink.
“Yep.”
Was that too abrupt? It certainly didn’t sound professional. Should I have said ‘yes, sir’ instead?
“Sounded like you were getting clean in there,” he said. “The walls are thin.”
