I throw on a pair of shorts and glance around the place. It’s not bad, but it’s not impressive either—bare bones, bachelor-core. A couple of shirts are on the chair, and some dishes are in the sink.
I toss the laundry into the hamper and head into the kitchen to do the dishes.
She doesn’t need to see just how much of a mess I still am.
Emma is in the shower long enough that I think about joining her; maybe she’s in there waiting for me.
But no.
She shut the door instead of leaving it open, which would have been a sign thatshe needed space.
Plus, we went at it pretty hard last night. She might be sore.
Hell,I’msore.
And even if I want nothing more than to slide in behind her and press a kiss to the curve of her neck, I’m still not sure this isn’tall a terrible idea, mainly because I don’t want her to have to deal with my bullshit.
When I head back into the bedroom, she’s just coming out, steam pouring from the bathroom.
She’s wrapped in a towel, another twisted high around that glorious mess of curls. Her skin is still dewy from the steam, flushed and glowing as she walks straight out of a fantasy.
Bare legs. Bare shoulders. The soft curve of her collarbone.
The sight of her hits me like a freight train.
My cock goes from zero tofull fuck yesin a single breath.
And of course, I’m wearing just a pair of basketball shorts. No boxers. No mercy.
There’s no hiding it.
“Do you have, like, a...” Her sentence trails off as she sees the massive hard-on I’m sporting. “...A, um...do you have a t-shirt and some sweatpants I can borrow?”
I clear my throat. “Yep. Yeah. Sure. Just let me...” as I turn and dig through drawers like I’ve forgotten how my hands work, brain fully short-circuited by the sight of her and the ache between my legs.
I finally grab something that might be a T-shirt and maybe sweatpants—honestly, I’m too distracted to care.
When I turn back around, words die in my throat.
“Oops,” Emma says innocently. “Dropped my towel.”
The towels are gone. And she stands naked in front of me, her wet hair dripping water down her curvaceous body in ways that make me very, very thirsty.
An involuntary groan rumbles out of my throat, and my cock only grows harder, painfully so.
“This isn’t fair,” I say, holding up my hands in defeat or warning or who the hell knows.
All of that shyness is gone. She stalks toward me, grinning wickedly. “You know what, Liam? Sometimes life isn’t fair.”
She drops to her knees. Pulls my basketball shorts down. Grasps my cock with one hand while looking up at me with her beautiful eyes.
“And sometimes it’s really, really, extra fair.”
Every doubt, every fear, every rational thought disappears the moment her perfect pink lips wrap around the head of my cock.
My whole body tenses. One hand grips the dresser behind me, the other grabs her damp curls; she’s undoing me.
Completely.
