I was obviously too loud. I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, but the door swings open. I look up just in time to see him peeking his head in, his eyes landing on my face before lowering to take in the rest of me.
And there is absolutely nothing hidden from view currently. I’m just standing there, in the glass shower stall, wet, still soapy, and absolutely and completely frustrated.
It must also be obvious what I was doing because he steps fully into the bathroom then, closing the door behind him, wearing only boxer briefs.
I can’t quite make out the look in his eyes through the steam and wet glass, but he seems to be deciding something before he speaks again.
“Let me help.”
It’s not what I expect him to say. But it’s exactly what I needed to hear.
A strangled sob escapes me before I can swallow it down, the emotions catching up in this moment of vulnerability that was meant to be a release.
A release I can’t seem to fucking reach.
The sound makes him open the shower stall door, stepping in to look at me more closely.
The look in his green-hazel eyes makes my breath catch.
I can’t let him help.
It would undo all the trust, the relationship we’ve built.
Sex makes things complicated.
We are easy, meant to be, safe.
A single intimate act could undo all of that.
“Let me help, Kal. You need it. I need it. We can go back to being roommates tomorrow,” he reaches one hand up to cup the side of my face, stepping closer.
His gaze is earnest, open, completely sincere. And I’m drowning in it.
“Forget the walls, just for today. Let me in, Kal. Let me… help you get there. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. You can go back to pretending you don’t notice me shirtless, and I’ll… I’ll go back to being the good little roommate who doesn’t tell you he thinks about this every night.”
A watery laugh escapes, and damn it, he makes valid points.
I don’t even know why I have walls up anymore. They are exhausting to upkeep, especially when he is this hot.
Hotter now that he’s wet and his boxers are molding his very hard cock.
Fuck it.
He’s right.
Of all the bad decisions I have made lately, this one feels like the most reasonable one.
I grab him then, without another word, and kiss him, deeply, messily, our teeth clashing and our lips bruising, and I couldn’t care less about being appropriate, or even gentle, wanting—no, needing—to lose myself in sensation, to get lost in Casey.
He’s the perfect escape. No strings attached.
Or I hope so.
Like he said—a problem for tomorrow’s Kallie.
Today Kallie is getting an orgasm.
Casey groans as his hands circle my body, sliding lower to grip my ass, and he squeezes possessively, grinding his impossibly hard cock against my center.
