“I…I think I do,” I whisper, and he nods.
“Well then, I’m going to go shower, feel free to watch.”
With that, he slips off the bed and pushes open the sliding door, leaving it all the way open for me as he turns on the light. I can see the shower from where I’m lying. I feel my face heat simply from him turning the water on, steam filling the room just seconds later.
It feels so wrong, but so right at the same time as he slips out of his boxers and steps into the glass shower.
I can’t stop my eyes from wandering over his whole form. Most of him is the same shade of white, except for his arms and head, being a few shades darker from being out in the sun so far this summer. Dark ink snakes halfway down his arm, going over his pec and even a little onto his back. A light dusting of hair coats his body, and his muscles flex as he runs some soap through his hair.
I think that I might be drooling. Beckett Hayes is more than anything I would have ever imagined, and as my eyes go down his body. I can’t help but feel my face heat even more, his cock standing fully hard from what he did to me.
He finishes washing his hair, then moves on to washing his body. I did not know that I needed a soapy, naked, Beckett Hayes in my life, but I do—at least five of them. I watch in anticipation as he washes the soap away, almost on the edge of the bed, waiting for what comes next.
Then it happens. He leans one arm against the tiled wall and the other reaches down, slowly taking himself into his hand.
He strokes himself slowly, the muscles in his arms flexing as his hand glides up and down his shaft. I almost pass away. Maybe this is too much, too fast. This is way too erotic for me, but I can’t seem to look away as his head falls back and his hand moves a little bit faster.
I don’t even know what kind of rabid animal I look like as I watch him, his hand pumping up and down.
I whimper softly as I fall back against the pillows, clenching my thighs together as I watch.
My eyes close for just a moment before they pop open again. I don’t want to miss any of this.
I watch him, my eyes glued to him, not even sure where to watch, as all of him looks so fucking good.
He lets out a small grunt, and quite possibly the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard as he lets go. I don't even realize I’ve all but stopped breathing until I fall back against the sheets and find air again.
I don’t think I fully return to earth until I feel him climb in next to me, in just boxers.
“That was so fucking hot,” I whisper, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw. If it wasn’t for the faint light being cast through the window from the remainder of sunset, I don’t think that I would have caught the tinge of pink on his cheeks.
I jerk up, “Oh my God, the steaks!” I screech, before I’m up and off the bed, running down the stairs and onto the back deck. When I lift the grill lid, I frown, because staring back at me are very well-done steaks.
“Aww, baby,” he coos, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing the side of my head.
“They’re burnt, what do we do now?” I pout, closing the lid and turning around to look up at him with a very sad look on my face. He smiles down at me.
“How about we order something from PJ’s?” He suggests, kissing my nose. I nod softly, dragging my feet back into the house. Looking down at the crispy steaks, I feel disappointed in myself. At least we turned off the oven before going upstairs, but the potatoes look just as sad as the steaks.
“Hey, why such a sad face? It’s ok,” he says as I toss the steaks into the trash.
“I wanted to make your favorite,” I pout, sitting at the counter and dropping my head to my arms.
“Baby, it’s ok. I promise, we can get stuff and make steak on another night,” he says. I nod, still not looking up at him.“Hey, look at me,” he says, sitting next to me and nudging me with his elbow. I let out a huff, looking up at him.
“It’s ok, really. No need to beat yourself up, I distracted us,” he says, taking my hand into his and giving it a squeeze.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, and he nods.
“Yes, I’m sure. Having you here with me is more than enough. We could eat cereal, and I’d be ok,” he says, pulling me into his lap.
“Cereal isn’t good for you,” I mumble into his neck, and it makes him laugh.
“Ok, then no cereal. What do you want from PJ’s? I’ll call it in.”
I let out a huff, but let myself relax. I know that I really shouldn’t be this upset about burning dinner, but he’s been so sweet to me, I figured the least that I could do was make him his favorite meal for dinner.
After he calls in our food, he picks me up and carries me over to the couch. We sit down, and I stay curled up around him as he turns on a show. I make another mental note to go to the store to get some fresh steaks so that I can try again tomorrow.
