My eyes close and I’m biting my bottom lip as I hear a long low moan. I’m trapped in here; either I leave now and he’ll hear footsteps or wait till he’s gone. But I want him to see me. I want him to know what I heard.
The sweatpants are oversized, the hoodie thin and too tight around my chest. Outside the stall the room is cool, summer evenings are never warm, not near the loch. I drop the towels in the wash bin as Ben’s shower door opens.
He’s naked and my eyes drink him in, parched for the sight. His shoulders are corded and heavy with muscle, his chest defined and firm and I daren’t let my eyes drop any lower.
I should apologise, avert my gaze, but I don’t. I should leave and be embarrassed but I stay and I’m not.
My nipples harden. I’m not a girl anymore. My virginity was taken a while ago by a person who wasn’t Ben and although my encounters haven’t been as many as I’d like, they’ve been intense.
He says nothing. Makes no attempt to cover himself or even grab a towel from the shelf. Rain hammers harder outside and my heart drums along with it, a prayer to a god who has chosen to torture me.
“You’ve gone bigger.” I know exactly how he’ll take the phrase.
He smirks, his eyes stay focused on mine. “So have you.” And then his gaze drops to my breasts. “Princess.”
The title makes me cringe. “I’m hardly wearing a tiara right now.”
“You’ll always wear a crown.”
His cock has hardened, no longer soft and I can’t stop from looking. I remember how it felt in my mouth, in my hand, against my stomach and I ache.
“Why come back?”
He rests his back against the shower stall. “What answer do you want for that? You want me to say it was you? I can.”
“Is that the truth?”
He reaches for a towel. “It doesn’t matter what the truth is.”
And I know what he’s saying. We could never have been. Whatever reason he’s back here for, it’s irrelevant.
“I’m glad you’re back.” This is my truth, whether he wants it or not.
His expression softens. “Good. I wouldn’t want to work for someone who wants me gone.”
He’s covered now, from his waist down. Perfect golden tanned skin, drops of water staying placed there, not wanting to drop and leave.
I don’t want to leave either. My feet are rooted to the floor, my breathing heavy and I know my pussy’s wet. If I was Elise I’d have my arm round him by now and my legs wrapped around his waist, but I don’t have that luxury.
“I should go.” The words are for me rather than him.
“Why?”
“Because looking never did me any favours.” I know his cock is hard under the towel. I’ve already calculated the marks the rough floor will leave on my knees if I was to get down on them in front of him.
“I need to dry off, Blair. And find my clothes. I leave later for a few days.”
I don’t know this and I feel rejected. “Why?”
“Meeting someone in Madrid. I have some leave to take. But don’t worry; I’ll bring you back a present.” He smiles and the towel drops.
I don’t even try not to look. He’s fully hard and he’s bigger than I remember, thicker. Back then, he was shy about his body, never keeping space between us, never being able to take in a full look, just glimpses and stolen images.
Things have changed.
“What if I was standing here naked? What would you think of me?”
He lifts his arms and towel dries his hair, looking at me, all of me. “That you were fucking beautiful. And I’d kill any other man who saw you like that.”
