He’s jerking off in there.
The realization hits me like a shot of espresso straight to the veins. Heat pools low in my belly, slick gathering fresh and instant. This man—who fucked me senseless for hours, who came so hard I felt it in my soul—is still so turned on by the memory of me that he needs relief in the middle of the night.
Opportunity knocks, loud and shameless.
Option one: roll over, pretend I heard nothing, go back to sleep like a good little one-night stand.
Option two: waltz in there, sleepy and naked and bold, and finish what his hand started.
Frisky as fuck wins. Obviously.
I push up slowly, dragging the thick charcoal duvet with me. It’s huge—practically a blanket cape—and I wrap it around my shoulders like a toga as I pad barefoot across the cool hardwood. The bedroom is bathed in soft pre-dawn gray, snow still falling lazily outside the tall windows. The bathroom door is ajar, warm light and steam spilling out in invitation.
I pause just outside, ear tilted. Water running. Heavy breathing. The occasional slick sound that makes my thighs clench.
Grinning to myself, I nudge the door open with my knuckle.
It creaks.
The shower stops instantly. Silence except for water dripping from the rainfall head.
He knows I’m here. Busted.
I lean against the doorframe, blanket clutched loosely, hair a wild mess, and meet his eyes through the fogged glass. He’s standing under the now-still spray, water sluicing down that carved body, cock still hard and heavy in his loose fist. Steam curls around his tattoos like incense. His deep mocha gaze locks on me—surprised, hungry, but not embarrassed. Never embarrassed.
“Thought I heard someone having a private party without me,” I say, voice husky with sleep and mischief.
He exhales a rough laugh, shaking water from his short hair. “You need sleep, Sweetness. Don’t feel obligated to entertain my apparently endless sex drive.”
The fact that he’s trying to be noble while still rock-hard and dripping wet is adorable. And hilarious.
I arch a brow, licking my lips slowly. “Has no omega ever kept up with you for multiple rounds in one night, Tank?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares, jaw tight, eyes darkening.
That silence is all the answer I need.
Smirking, I let the blanket fall.
It pools at my feet in a soft heap, leaving me bare under the warm bathroom light. His gaze rakes over me—slow, possessive—taking in my flushed skin, the faint marks he left on my breasts and hips, the slick already glistening on my inner thighs.
I step forward, completely unashamed. “Turn the water back on, Alpha. And make it hot. I’m not into the ice-bucket phase.”
A low chuckle rumbles out of him—deep, delighted—and he reaches for the handle. Hot water cascades again, filling the marble shower with fresh steam. I step in, sighing as the heat hits my skin, and before I can reach for him, his arm snakesaround my waist, hauling me flush against his wet, chiseled body.
His mouth crashes into mine—no gentle good-morning peck, but a tongue-twisting, devouring kiss that steals my breath and curls my toes. I moan into it, hands sliding up his slick back, nails scraping over muscle. He tastes like mint and raw desire, and I can’t get close enough.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me effortlessly—hands under my thighs, pressing my back to the cool tiles. The contrast—scorching water, cold wall, burning Alpha—makes me gasp. He swallows the sound, angling his hips until the thick head of his cock nudges my entrance.
Then he slides home in one smooth, deep thrust.
We both groan, loud and unrestrained.
He fucks me exactly how he needs it: hard, deliberate, punishing in the best way. Water pounds over us, plastering my hair to my back, running in rivulets between our bodies. His grunts echo off the marble—rough curses about how addicting my pussy is, how dangerously perfect I feel wrapped around him.
I manage to gasp out, between moans, “You say that to all your nightly guests?”
He growls against my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear. “Fuck no.” A hot kiss pressed there, voice low and serious. “You’re the first I’ve ever brought to my real place, Rosemarie. You’ve already climbed the goddamn ladder.”
