He lifts a brow. “Bullshit.”
I don’t answer. He opens his eyes halfway and looks right at me, then lower at himself, right where my gaze was.
“You were looking at my tat.”
I stay quiet.
“You can ask about it,” he says.
I give the thought some time, until the idea twists like my stomach does. “Not right now,” I mumble.
He shrugs. “Hey, I get it.”
He steps back, letting more water hit me. He reaches out with both hands and slides his fingers up my shoulders to my neck. His touch is too warm for this cramped, cold tile box.
“But for the record? You’re allowed to look,” he says, opening his eyes. “I’m yours to look at.”
I hold back a pleased groan. He bends his head down and kisses the spot above my collarbone. It feels wet, warm, and way too quick for my liking.
“Want me to wash your hair, Ocean Eyes, or should we keep having this strange staring contest?”
He turns me toward the water before I say anything, hands firm on my shoulders, his chest touching my back.
“I’ll wash your hair and give you a scalp massage,” he says. “You deserve it after dicking me down so good.”
I’d say something, but thoughts and words are gone in a snap.
Stan’s fingers slide into my hair. My eyes close as warmer water runs over me.
Behind my closed eyelids, the image of thatEstays dark. But theimage of his grin is bright, while I listen to him talk. He’s spouting about breakfast. My mind wanders to his deep voice rumbling pleas and moans for me all night and earlier today.
He eases me back a step so the spray hits me fully. I open my eyes to rinse the suds away and find him watching me through the steam with a suggestive grin that goes straight to my groin.
“What?” I snap.
“You stare at me when I washed my hair. It’s only fair I stare back.”
I shake my head, but when his hand slides down to wrap around my cock, I groan and lean into his touch.
He chuckles. “Admit you’re jealous.”
My brows pull together. “Of what?”
He nods down at his chest, the tattoo.
He isn’t wrong. I still don’t say anything.
“Okay, babe.” He drags his fingers through my hair. His other hand strokes slow around my cock. I bite back more groans. “Are we really gonna do this? You’re gonna hide the fact that I caught you staring—”
“You had your eyes closed,” I hiss.
“And like I said, I couldhearyou stare.”
I breathe out through my nose.
He keeps massaging my scalp with one hand. Too gentle for someone who’s picking a fight with me about how he used to love my sister. I don’t know what to do with that.
Not when I’m the one who wants him—
