His eyes go unfocused, like he’s seeing me in his shirt and only his shirt in his mind. When he shakes his head, his icy blue eyes meet mine again and hold me in place for a second. My breathing starts to pick up with how hungry he looks.
My body responds to the pull between us, the one I’ve been trying to deny.
It’s too real. Too raw. It’s more than I can handle because this is not where I’m supposed to end up on my road trip.
Right?
I haven’t gone nearly far enough.
There are so many more places on the route we came up with.
If I don’t get back on the road soon, won’t I be giving up on my best friend’s last wish?
Then there’s the thought I can’t seem to stop myself from coming back to—why did I break down here? Of all places? When everything was working just fine with my car and I made sure of it before leaving Seneca Falls.
Is it possible that Hillary wanted me to stop here? The only way to ensure Storyville got any of my attention was by dropping me in the middle of it and not giving me any choice in the matter.
After I hook my thumbs into the waistband of the shorts I put on, I shimmy them down over my hips, along with my panties. I let them fall to the floor and tentatively step closer to the shower.
Elwood is stroking himself slowly, the movement almost lazy. But there’s not a damn thing lazy about the way he’s looking at me. I can almost feel the possession in his touch, and I can’t even feel it. Yet.
“Come on, Sweet Girl,” he murmurs, his voice beckoning me closer.
My lip curls up at his nickname for me. I haven’t been called sweet in a long damn time. It’s not like people thought I was evil or anything like that, and Seneca Falls definitely has a rumor mill which would keep something like that going. Still, no one expects pomp and circumstance from me. It was never my style.
“I’m not sweet,” I fire back at him, my voice full of sass.
The smile he gives me is knowing and downright sinful. He doesn’t argue or insist his nickname for me is accurate. But I have a feeling he’s not giving it up so easily.
I tip toe toward the shower as if it’ll help mitigate the reality of what I’m doing. I should not be getting into the shower with a man I barely know. Not even barely know, a man I met a few hours ago.
It makes no sense. I should be running in the opposite direction.
Then why is sliding into the shower and running my hands over Elwood’s muscular shoulders the only thing I want to do?
The warmth of the water hits me first as I open the glass door. Elwood doesn’t look away. He watches every movement, every breath, like he’s cataloging and memorizing. His gaze is worshipful.
My pussy clenches around nothing as I jump a little when the door swings closed behind me. Now I’m here.
In the shower.
Even though I could step back out, it’s the last thing I want to do. Elwood lets out a low growl filled with warning. He’s on the edge of his control.
Considering how his cock is practically pulsing in his hand, I’m not surprised he’s on edge. I’ve never seen a cock look so angry as his does.
Without realizing it, I lick my lips and Elwood warns, “Don’t lick your lips like you want to find out what flavor popsicle my dick is.” When I bite my lip, he growls, his voice even deeper, “Don’t do that either.”
“Then,” I challenge him, “what can I do exactly?”
One side of Elwood’s mouth tips up into a smirk, one I don’t find infuriating, surprisingly enough. No, instead of overly cocky, it makes him even sexier.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” he coos the words before unwrapping his fingers from his length and taking a step closer to me.
My body shudders at the promise in his voice.
“I’m all ears,” I murmur.
It feels like my body is buzzing, the anticipation on the verge of being painful with every step he takes to close the distance between us. When his body is close enough that a deep breath will have our chests brushing, I’m already a panting mess.
