My cheeks grow warm. My inner thighs get hot and wet.
I’m frozen in place, torn between wanting to see him come and knowing I have no business being there.
His eyes narrow.
I jerk, returning to my senses and get the hell out of his bedroom, closing the door behind me.
CHAPTER7
Grayson
I’m faced with a dilemma.
Abandon what I’m doing or finish what I’ve started.
I decide to finish. Hell, Caroline already saw me beating my cock like it owes me money, so I might as well reap the reward of my efforts. I’ve been wound really fucking tight the last three weeks.
I’m poised over the sink for easy clean up, straight out of the shower. I could have jerked off in the shower, but I think I fell asleep under the stream instead. When I finally came back to my senses, the water was cold because this is an old building. I’d gotten out and decided to take care of business quickly before Caroline and Evelyn returned.
Not quickly enough, apparently.
But now, as I stroke myself a little slower, but tighter, my fantasy of a couple of blondes making out is replaced by the image of a certain woman with reddish brown hair who lives in tight leggings. Her expression—was she horrified? Yes. But I also think she was a little intrigued. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Bottom line, I’m sure she’s going to quit.
But right now, I’m visualizing what would have happened if she had strode into the bathroom, got down on her knees and pulled my cock into her moist, silken mouth, cupping my balls with lithe fingers and gazing up over my length with a wanton expression…
I give a grunt and explode into my hand, the hot strands of cum spilling over into the sink. Letting out a deep breath, I release the tension in my shoulders and consider how I’m supposed to apologize to Caroline.
Not that I need to apologize. I was in my bedroom. Though the door was open.
But still. She invaded my privacy.
But she’s also caring for my maybe-daughter and I should be available to her.
Though what happened to knocking?
The door was open.
Damn it. As I quickly clean up and get dressed, tension is already creeping back into my neck and shoulders.
At least I’m clean and I did a load of laundry last night. I have clean shorts to put on, though they’re wrinkled to hell and back, and a golf shirt so I can look presentable on this afternoon’s video call. I really need to research if there is a laundry service in Honeysuckle Harbor. In New York, my clothes just magically appeared on my doorstep three times a week in a tidy little hanging bag of ironed shirts and pants, as well as my towels and sheets in a bundle, a sprig of lavender on top.
Why do I feel like that’s not a Honeysuckle Harbor staple?
I need a housecleaning service as well. Caroline and James ran my dishwasher and cleaned up a multitude of takeout containers the night before, which was really nice, but I can’t expect Caroline to clean on top of caring for Evelyn. She’s a pretty demanding baby. Hell, maybe all babies are demanding. I have no idea. I just know that I’m white knuckling this whole situation.
And Caroline is probably going to quit because I made her uncomfortable.
Though I still feel like she was in the wrong here.
I never gave her permission to be in my bedroom.
Of course, that’s where the crib is.
Knowing I might actually be wrong doesn’t improve my mood. It makes it worse.
I stride out into the living room, prepared for battle. I will argue my ass off to prevent Caroline from quitting.
