It calls to me. Tempting and dangerous.
Rational thought clicks off, and I bound from the bed, sliding into my slippers and grabbing the key. I’m terrified I’m going to walk into an empty room. Because then I’ll know.
I’ll know he’s with her.
Tears bite at my eyes as I race from the room, inhibitions lost to the wind. There’s a ringing in my ears, a heavy metal band pounding steel sticks against shrieking snares. His door looms closer. Confirmation hides behind it. Without thinking, I hold the key to the sensor and softly push my way inside. The room is dark. No lights are on.
Oh God…
My chest squeezes. I don’t want to know.
I need to know.
I step forward, glancing around, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
Then I hear something. A low moan, coming from the bathroom.
No.
She’s here.
Something twisted possesses my feet, carrying me forward. One step. Two steps. I’m prepared to discover sheaves of blond hair whipping around as Chase piledrives her against the bathroom sink. And still, I keep moving. Keep going.
My stomach is sick. My throat stings with bile.
I close my eyes, stopping just outside the open door.
Then, one by one, my eyes open.
I peer into the bathroom, and my breath locks up.
Everything freezes.
Chase is hunched forward, one hand planted against the bathroom wall while the other moves rapidly through the shadows.
I choke.
My gaze dips, landing on dark jeans pooled around his ankles.
Boxers caught around his thighs.
I watch, paralyzed, as he strokes himself, every muscle corded and tight. His head tilts back, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as a groan slips out.
All the moisture leaves my mouth. Arousal stabs between my thighs.
I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t look away.
But something spills out of me: a gasp, a croak, a moan.
He stills.
His head flicks up, and our eyes meet through the darkness.
A sheen of sweat glints on his brow line, reflecting off the sliver of moonlight.
Heat scorches my cheeks. Lust and fear and embarrassment.
I should run. Back away. Apologize.
