I step directly under the water, turning my face up to it. It gives me a minute of silence to get my thoughts together. I debate fleeing. Once was plenty to think about, and fuck, was that ever hot.
When I turn to face him again, though, Gabriel speaks first.
“How long has it been?”
“Since I…” I trail off, not sure how to characterize what we just did.
“Since you messed around with a man,” he confirms.
“About thirteen years.”
He lets out a whistle and steps back under the water. “Too long.”
I take the washcloth and step closer to him, wanting to even the field again after he cleaned me. He doesn’t move as I wipe off his chest and abs, sending the semen swirling down the drain.
My fingers trace his wet abs. The carnal part of my brain responds.
“There,” I say, hiding the warring desires inside me. “Spiffy clean.”
He laughs. “You’re funnier than I realized.”
I decide to take that as a compliment. “How long has it been for you?” I ask.
He looks up toward the ceiling. “Not counting Vegas? It’s been a while, actually. A month. Two?” He turns his eyes back to me. “For the record, I get tested after every new partner.”
“That’s good,” I say, but I feel myself tensing. I feel insecure when I think about him sleeping with other people, especially since I know what his sex life has been. I’m probably so inexperienced compared to his usual partners. It worries me that I might have embarrassed myself in some way.
And maybe I just don’t like my sexual partners talking about their other partners when I’m still in a post-orgasmic haze.
“Don’t worry, hubby,” he jokes. “The last guy didn’t mean anything to me. And neither did his girlfriend.”
I’m not sure if Gabriel’s joking around helps me shift from the tense moment, but it at least gets me talking again. “I’m not surprised that your last hookup was a threesome.”
He hits the wall, turning the water off. “Honestly, the sex didn’t compare,” he says. “You’re hot as hell, Spencer.”
I swallow, caught off guard by the compliment. He’s probably just sweet-talking, but when I glance down, I see he’s half-hard again.
And I realize I’m fully erect. Without another word, I turn and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist as I step out. Gabriel follows me, drying himself on the way.
“I didn’t intend to hook up with you tonight,” I tell him.
“Neither did I.” When we exit the bathroom, he finds his boxer briefs and tugs them on. “Not that I regret it.”
I turn to face him. “Neither do I,” I admit.
Because I don’t. Maybe I’ll wallow in regret later, but right now, with the buzz of the orgasm still on my skin and Gabriel flashing me his cocky smile, I’m glad I made this choice.
The idea of sex with a man isn’t a distant memory or a forgotten, drunken night anymore. It’s real, just as real as Gabriel standing before me, and I’m grateful that I gave myself that in the middle of all this chaos.
He keeps eyeing me, and I huff, flustered by his attention. “What?”
Gabriel chuckles, that deep music that I’m starting to appreciate. “It’s just that you’resodamnhot, Spencer. Not just your tennis body. All of you. I thought you were uptight at first, and youare,but it’s because you’ve got a tiger in you. I don’t know how you keep passion like that buried away.”
My cheeks feel warm. Is that really what I’m like? Not sure what to say, I rub my hand over my face. “I get it out on the tennis court,” I offer. “And, uh, you’re hot, too.”
“Thanks. I know.”
I sigh. I should retreat back to my suite immediately. But what he said about another round echoes in my head, so I stand there, hair damp and a towel around my waist, wanting more.
