“How?” I ask him.
His answer is just looking at me. Everywhere. His gaze rakes over my body, and I let him. It’s warmer than the water coming out of the handheld shower nozzle. Nearly as warm as the flames between my legs.
There’s that intense focus to him again, the one that makes my stomach tighten. Like I’m the most important thing he’s ever seen.
His lips have parted and he reaches down, taking himself in hand. “You know how,” he says. “You know why.”
Because of me.
He starts to stroke himself slowly, eyes locked on me. The air in here is quickly becoming hotter with the steam. I step beneath it and lets it wash over my hair, my arms, my body. My nipples are hard points of want. When I brush a hand over them, Rafe groans like I’m torturing him.
The muscles in his arm flex with each stroke, and I can’t look away either. It’s intoxicating to see him like this. Looking at me like I’m all he’s ever wanted.
Maybe that’s why I do what I do next. Or maybe it’s because I love torturing him with what he can’t have. Either way, I push the shower nozzle down between my legs.
Rafe groans out loud and says something in French.
No.I need to know what that was.
I move the nozzle away. “Tell me what you said.”
“I said that your beauty is going to kill me.”
My heart stutters. It’s power, this. And it’s intoxicating. “One more orgasm,” I tell him, and move the nozzle back. It doesn’t take long for my own body to respond. I’ve been keyed up from seeing him come, and standing here bathed in his obvious need, I come against the steady water pressure on my clit. I have to hold on to the tiled wall for support and keep my eyes on him.
He comes with a groaned curse. There’s not much spend this time. His cock is dark red and there’s a glazed look to his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re good,” he tells me. He’s resting a hand against the sink and looks like he’s trying to catch his breath. There’s wonder in his voice. “You came, too.”
“Don’t mention it.” I leave the water running and step out of the shower. We stand only inches away from one another for a few long, hot moments, and then he steps past me into the shower.
My legs feel weak.
I sweep myself in one of the hotels fluffy white towels and watch him stand beneath the spray of the overhead shower nozzle. It slicks his dark hair against his scalp and makes the scar along his side stand out. His thick cock hangs between his legs, finally looking sated. It’s been well used tonight.
My head spins.
I brush my teeth and walk over to the bed. It’s big, andfluffy too, and I steal one of his t-shirts out of his bag to wear to bed. My heart is still beating fast. I had come. In front of him.
Rafe comes out a few minutes later with the towel slung around his waist. We look at each other for a few long seconds. The fire inside me is gone. But there’s something else, deep in my stomach, that burns in a softer way.
“Sleep here. Not on the couch,” I say.
He nods and walks over to his suitcase. I stare up at the darkened ceiling while he pulls on clothes and climbs into bed.
“Better?” I ask him.
“Yes.” His voice is low. “You?”
“Yes.”
The darkness swallows the room whole. Maybe what’s just happened is best kept there. The need, the taunting, the intensity. He’s not someone I should be having this kind of fun with.
I wanted him to admit to wanting me.
I never wanted to admit to the same.
“Paige,” he says. “Tomorrow…”
