My eyebrows rose.
“Not like that. You . . . You . . .” She trailed off when I removed my shirt and tossed it to the bench just outside of the shower stall. Probably a dick move considering the fact that she was clearly uncomfortable. Sometimes I forgot that not everybody was fortunate enough to shower next to forty sweat-drenched, hairy-assed guys six days a week. In this case, I couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when her chocolate-brown eyes were licking over every line, dip, and curve of my sculpted torso. I was suddenly thankful I’d taken the extra time to do my upper-body workout this morning after my run.
“Do you want me to remove the towel, too?”
She sobered. “Excuse me?” Today’s eye-fucking session had officially come to a close.
“You know, so you can get the full picture.” I smirked when her cheeks reddened.
“Ah, Moira, I presume?” she asked.
It took me a minute to realize what she was talking about. The first thing I’d done after checking into Bed of Roses was connect to the Wi-Fi. If there was another shitty tabloid write-up about Monica and me, I wanted to know about it. The second thing I did was text my sister, the biggest fan ofSchitt’s Creek, a photo of my trailer.
As someone who had spent the better part of their adult life living out of hotels, I’d seen my fair share of themed kitsch. Famous Roses were a lot easier to swallow than pirates or Disney characters. Then again, my bias against Disney was less about Mickey Mouse and more about the “Disney adult” I’d dated once. She’d replaced my entire wardrobe with pastels while I was out of town one weekend and usedmycredit card to buy us both season passes to Disneyland. I’d been living in Dallas at the time. Never again.
“The name’s Soren.”
I waited for some flicker of recognition, but it never came, and there was something refreshing about that. Then again, ninety-nine percent of the world knew me as Sin. Something told me the buxom blonde across from me knew nothing of sin. But I’d be happy to rectify that.
“Well,Soren,” she grumbled. Damn, I liked the way she said my name—my real, legal name—with her subtle, Southern twang. “Would you mind?” She motioned toward the row of trailers behind her. I was too busy eyeing the bead of water dripping down her neck, traveling into the opening of her robe.
“Not at all,” I said around a smile, the first one I’d had in days. I stepped farther into the shower stall and turned on the water. “Don’t leave on my account.”
And with that, I removed the towel from around my waist.
The wall between us was tall enough (and she was short enough) that she’d need to lean over the top to get a glimpse of “the goods," but she knew I was naked. And like the Grinch, that made my smile (and my now semihard cock) grow three-sizes bigger.
Exhibitionism had never been my thing before. The general public already knew too much about my private life as it was. But fucking with blondie here was just too fun.
I lathered my body with soap, daring her to call my bluff. Instead, she gathered her shower supplies, slamming them back into her plastic carrying caddy one by one. Why any person would need that many products to take a shower was beyond me, but nonetheless, I was enjoying the show. The last to go was the mug she’d set on the edge of the shower. I squinted to read the text on the side, which said . . .
Damn.
“Nice mug.”
That had to belong to the resort. There was no way this girl had a sense of humor, let alone a penchant for dirty puns.No, if her trailer was anything like mine, it came fully equipped with a tiny kitchen, chock full of appropriately sized appliances, cutlery, and dishes (with inappropriate sayings).
She stormed out of the stall, stomping her sandal-clad feet across the gravel, and back up toward her trailer. The higher she got up the hill, the better view I had of the milky, lush cheeks peeking out from beneath her robe. Just as she reached the main path, I called out to her.
“See you next time, blondie.” She stiffened and then, in a move rivaling onlyThe Exorcist’s Linda Blair, slowly pivoted her head until she was glaring at me. And only then, when I knew she was watching, did I snake my hand down to grip my cock. I couldn’t help the groan that escaped if I tried.
Her eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed until they were practically the color of the fire burning through my groin. And then, as if conjured by own sex-starved imagination, she was gone.
The slam of the door leading to the trailer markedRose DeWitt Bukater—which, just my luck, was the one right next door to mine—was the only indication she’d been there in the first place.
You can run, blondie, but you can’t hide.
My mother would have my ass if she knew what I’d done. That was nothing compared to what Ward would do to me if he even knew I was entertaining the idea of another woman right now. But none of that was enough to sour my mood. Or my erection.
I’d never rubbed one out in a public shower before. Showering with your teammates was one thing; jerking off in front of them was frowned upon. Then again, there was nobody around. Nobody but me and the stacked blonde. And maybe, just maybe she’d be watching.
I dragged my fist down my shaft, giving it a rough squeeze when I reached the base.
I hope you enjoy the show, blondie.
Clarke
Starting a new job was nerve-racking enough. Starting a new job after a sleepless night of pornographic dreams about your infuriatingly handsome neighbor, and what he was hiding underneath his terrycloth towel, was something else entirely. So much for waking up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my first day.
