He gives me a curt nod, his eyes lingering a second too long before he stands and walks past me. I keep my eyes on my suitcase, only letting out the breath I’d been holding once I hear the bathroom door close behind him.
Relief floods me, mixed with a pinch of disappointment.
I drop my dirty clothes in a small laundry bag and dig through my suitcase. My fingers brush over the lace sets I packed “just in case,” and without overthinking it, I slide the panties on. Black. Lacy. Barely there.
I’m reaching for the oversized sleep shirt when the bathroom door swings open.
And there he is.
My eyes widen, my body jerks. “Oh my God—Esteban!”
I instinctively slap both hands over my chest, the shirt dangling from my elbow.
He freezes mid-step, towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his chest and shoulders. His eyes go wide, and for a second, he just stares. “Carajo,” he mutters, snapping out of it.
But I don’t. My gaze drops to the tattoos inked across his chest and side, my brain short-circuiting as I try and fail not to stare.
“I’m so sorry, Eva. I came back to grab my razor.” He quickly squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head, one hand lifting in surrender like he’s about to be arrested, the other holds the towel.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “What? You’ve never seen a topless woman before?”
He swallows. Hard. “I have. Just… notyou.It’s different with you.” There’s something in his voice, something raw and real that makes my breath hitch.
I fumble my shirt over my head and shimmy into my sleep shorts as fast as I can. “Well,” I say, still trying to sound nonchalant despite the furnace raging under my skin, “maybe next time say something before you get out of the bathroom.”
“I thought you were dressed,” he says, still not looking, still standing in place like a statue. “But believe me, Eva… I’m not complaining. The view was spectacular.”
That last part is whispered, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
My cheeks flame. “Okay. You can look now.”
He cracks one eye open. Then the other. And when he sees me dressed, his lips twitch. “Noted. I’ll work on my timing.”
I shake my head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Please do.” But even as he heads back toward the bathroom to finish showering, I can still feel the way he looked at me, like he wanted to memorize every inch.
And I know, deep in my bones, that something could happen between us tonight. I just need to stay calm. Collected. Not jump his bones the second he walks out of that bathroom.
Grabbing my Kindle, I plop down onto the bed, letting out a sigh as my body sinks into the plush mattress.My goodness, this bed feels like a cloud. I make a mental note: I need one of these at home.
I wiggle under the covers and start scrolling through mybook, pretending like I can focus on the chapter I’ve already reread three times. The words blur together, the plot vanishes, and no matter how hard I try, my eyes keep flicking to the closed bathroom door.
The water’s still running.
And my mind—traitorous thing that it is—starts wandering.
What is he doing in there?
Is he just washing his hair, rinsing off a long day?
Or is he thinking of me?
My breath catches.
Is he touching himself while thinking of me?
My cheeks burn at the thought, but I don’t stop the mental image from playing out. I close my eyes for a second and let the image build, his strong body under the spray, head tipped back, water gliding down the ridges of his chest. His hand wrapped around his hard cock, the way I looked earlier almost naked flashing in his mind.
Shit.I sit up and press the Kindle to my chest like it might absorb my thoughts and save me from myself.
