Bastian is busy pulling the door closed, but he stops, his eyes flickering down to my hand. I lick my bottom lip and then tighten my hand on the towel, ducking my head.
My body flinches when he slams the door closed.
What the hell am I doing?
Something happened to me inside that shower. It’s like it reactivated the drugs in my system. I feel like I did back on the dance floor, right before things got all fucked up. But the sensation is darker and deeper, like I was listening to treble, now it’s all bass.
All I can think about is how good it would feel to be wrapped in Bastian’s arms. How tight he’d hold me. How warm his body would be against mine. Everything he’s done for me these pastcouple of weeks. He’s been so kind, so thoughtful, and I’ve just thrown it back in his face.
Ungrateful.
I pluck the towel free and let it drop to the floor. Cool air glides over my skin, and I pause for a moment, waving my fingers through air as thick as cream.
Lick my lip again, wincing when it stings.
Ouch.
My hand is on the bathroom door. The faucet starts running inside, and I hear the shower door click closed. I hesitate, then slide the door open an inch.
Two. Three.
Just enough so I can peek inside.
The air is so much warmer in here, and it flows over my skin as I duck my head in.
Bastian has his back to the door, messing with the faucet. Steam is building up, sticking to the glass door separating us, turning his body into a pale smudge against the black tiles. The foggy air smells like his body wash, and I take a big hit into my lungs. Enough that I’ll still be smelling him tomorrow when I wake up wondering if this was all a dream.
I slide the door open just enough to step into the bathroom.
My heart is hammering so hard, I swear he could hear it if the shower wasn’t running.
What will he do?
Will he turn me away?
Or will he let me inside with him?
I can feel every tiny water droplet suspended in the air as it cleaves to my skin.
Reaching behind me, I fumble for the door, trying to close it without taking my eyes off Bastian’s tall, pale body.
Imagining what’s behind that clouded up glass. If that darker smudge is the hair above his cock. If?—
There’s a loud rapping at the front door.
It feels like someone knocking on my skull.
I gasp, and then Bastian turns to look at the door, and sees me, and I gasp again. My arm wraps around my tits, the other slides between my legs.
“Shit!” I spin around, hitting my shoulder on the bathroom door as I wrestle my way through it to get out.
“Haven?” Bastian calls after me.
I snatch up the hoodie Bastian left on the bed, tugging it over my head, my legs almost tangling under me as I head for the front door.
But then I stop, because this isn’t my house, and should I be answering Professor Rooke’s?—?
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
