I know I should leave, but I can’t. Instead, I make my way through the room towards another door. Opening it, I enter Pen’s en-suite. A claw foot bath sits in front of another all-glasswindow. My mind pictures Pen lying back amongst bubbles, her hair wet, her hands running over her body, taking in the view.
I turn away.
Fuck! I need to get a grip.
Pen is about to be married, and I am concentrating solely on Lottie for the foreseeable future. I’ve no right fantasising about Pen naked in the bath. We hardly talk these days—but being with her tonight. It feels like the past fifteen years have melted away. I felt it at the wedding, and tonight has cemented those feelings. We’ve fallen back into our old patterns and I realise I’ve missed it, missed her.
I shake myself and turn towards a large walk-in shower. I recognise Jax’s design. My brother Caleb’s is the same. I should find another bathroom.
I spot a set of folded, clean towels in the corner and grab one. The smell of washing powder, a scent familiar to Pen, wafts out.
I strip in record time, my cock aching.
I grab my body wash from my bag. The thought of walking around smelling like Pen for the day is a little more than my mind and body can take right now. It’s been a long time since I was with a woman I cared about. Not that I’ve been a saint. I’ve been careful about the women I’ve hooked up with. Darra and I have both been discrete over the years, or at least I have. After the truth came out about Lottie, I couldn’t touch her, didn’t want to. Too many lies, so much deceit. I could barely stand to be in the same room as her. I walled off my heart to protect my daughter. I knew Darra would not think twice about preventing me from seeing Lottie, it was her only bargaining chip left, so she maximised it, and that threat was not something I could risk. The thought of never seeing my daughter again was enough to keep my libido in check.
I stand under the thundering spray and close my eyes. I run my hands over my body, washing off the stress of the day andnight. When my hand grazes my rock-hard cock, I bite my lip to suppress the groan that rises in my throat.
The flat of my hand hits the tiled wall, and I drop my head as I count to ten.
My cock throbs, begging for attention.
Wanking off in Pen’s shower, an engaged woman, my friend will not happen. I have more respect for her than that.
I squeeze my eyes closed and feel for the shower controls.
My muscles clench as I switch the setting from hot to ice bath cold. The sting of the spray stealing my breath, the icy shards, calming my raging libido.
I stand under the spray until my skin is red and tingling from the onslaught.
I flip the switch and turn off the jet, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath as I reach for the towel I collected. Drying off, I pull on a fresh set of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jumper, my standard office attire. Time to re-face the music.
When I make my way back downstairs, I hear a noise coming from the kitchen.
CHAPTER 24
PEN
With Elijah out of the way, I throw myself into double-checking my findings. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing. They’ve covered their tracks brilliantly. I’m not wrong. I recognise the code. What I don’t understand is why? If it’s who I suspect, we’re supposed to be on the same side. Does The Seamstress know? Is she in on it?
Fuck!
Who could have imagined that being out of the game would be this complicated?
I park my thoughts, and instead, I create a file containing all the changes that will need to be backed out. By the time I’m done, my head is about to explode with what-ifs. I need to get out of myshe-cave. The walls have become restricting, and my sanctuary has begun to feel more like a prison.
I make my way up to the kitchen and stare out over the garden. The rising sun appears over the trees in the background. I went upstairs and saw my suitcase before hearing Elijah in my bathroom, so I made a hasty retreat. Seeing him naked is not something I need in my memory banks. Tonight has already ignited a whole pile of memories and feelings I thought were long buried.
We’re very different people now, and I’m about to marry a wonderful man.
I turn sharply as Elijah enters the kitchen, instantly wishing I hadn’t. He’s fresh out of the shower, my shower, looking refreshed, his hair damp, his clothes new.
The jumper he’s wearing stretches across his broad chest. I know his jeans will hug his ass if he was to turn around. My mouth dries, and I take another swig of coffee.
“How was your shower?” I choke.
“Great,” he says. “I used yours. Hope you don’t mind. I thought, rather than dirty another room.”
The back of my neck grows hot, and a fluttery sensation of a thousand butterflies setting flight in my stomach hits.
