I flick one of the metal rings on the thick bed post, knowing exactly what it’s used for. The image of Syn tied up, at their mercy, her moans echoing between the walls as they pleasure her. My cock goes rock hard at the thought.
Definitely time for a cold shower.
In a way, the large bathroom with double vanity and elongated glass shower is even more intimate than the bedroom. A set of rechargeable toothbrushes in different colors are lined up next to each other. A men’s electric shaver sits next to Syn’s hairbrush, her makeup and body lotion tucked in the corner along with a bottle of men’s cologne. One of her white cotton bras hangs over the towel rod on the wall—something I amnotgoing to touch no matter how much my fingers are itching to do just that.
The clutter is one of familiarity. A daily routine that couples share.
Dropping my duffel on the floor, I turn the shower knob to cold and shuck my joggers and briefs off. The frigid water streaming from the waterfall showerhead shocks my senses when I step under it. I’m tempted to use Syn’s gardenia shampoo but opt for the Hermes on the inset shelf and take the shortest shower known to man. Being in here, in their space, surrounded by their things, feels…not exactly wrong, but more like I’m invading their privacy and seeing something I have no right to.
A flash of red hair suddenly appears through the shower glass when Syn comes into the bathroom and strips off her shirt. “Oh my god, I am so glad this day is over. Classes about killed me. Baby bean is sitting right on my bladder. I felt like I had to pee every five sec—” Her hands go to the waistband of her yoga leggings just as our eyes meet.
Fuck.
Me.
Like twin deer caught in headlights, we stare wide-eyed at one another for the longest ten seconds of my life. And then, her gaze starts wandering. Down. Slowly.
So does mine.
She’s not even naked but seeing her standing there in her pink lace bra scrambles my damn brain cells. Her stomach is slightly rounded, her bump finally showing, her face flushed and glowing. She is a goddamn goddess.
“Syn.”
“Yeah?” She bites her bottom lip.
Her leisurely visual stroll stops on my throbbing cock that has decided to point itself right at her like a fucking divining rod seeking water. If Tristan comes in, he’s going to murder me. Painfully. Then Constantine will douse my body in gasoline, and Hendrix will eagerly light the match.
“I…uh…” I swallow.Say something, stupid.“Can you hand me a towel, please?”Not that, dumbass.
“Uh-huh.” But she doesn’t move to get one.
“Syn.”
Her chest rises and falls in fast succession. There’s a small tattoo, right on the top swell of her left breast I’ve not seen before. A firefly.
“Yeah?”
“Towel…if you don’t mind.”
She distractedly reaches for the towel hanging on the hook on the back of the door and tosses it over the glass partition.
“Thank you.” I wrap it around my waist and turn off the shower.
“You’re welcome.” She peers up at me when I step out, the towel already soaked through and dripping water all over the floor. “I thought…Tristan…and the shower.”
“I’m not him.” Obviously.
She nods. Looks down at my dick tenting the towel. Nods again. “Okay.”
“I…um…I need to put some clothes on.”
“Okay.”
It takes a few seconds before she backs out of the bathroom and quietly closes the door behind her, leaving me there with thoughts of how badly I want to fuck her.
I’m going to need another cold shower.
Twenty-Nine
