Page 21 of In Love and Revenge

‘You do, huh?’ she says.

‘I do,’ he murmurs. ‘I’m going to taste every inch of you.’

The sound of his voice is like warm butter on hot toast. Confident. Dreamy ...Sexy.

God, this woman is so lucky. She has a wardrobe to die for, and her husband sounds like he adores her.

Kissing sounds travel from the room, and I hover by the door, a flicker of embarrassment preventing me from opening it. Maybe I can just wait until they really get going so they don’t hear me leave. Then I’ll be able to tiptoe around the edge of the room so I don’t disturb the fresh vacuum lines in the plush carpet that Tanya gets so precious over, and ease open the window. I can escape down the fancy balcony that wraps around the house. I’ve been out that way before once when Tanya had dinner guests and said she didn’t want to risk them seeing ‘the cleaner’.

There’s a reluctant, masculine groan as he pulls away from her. ‘But I do need to use the bathroom first. Give me a moment.’

‘Don’t be long,’ she coos.

Heavy footsteps move closer, and I look around in panic. I should have walked out and said hello the moment they came in. Not stayed behind the door and listened like some creepy eavesdropper. And there’s not enough time for me to open the window and get out now. The wardrobe provides absolutely no places to hide. Not unless you’re a Birkin bag or a Louboutin.

Shit, think . . .

The footsteps grow closer, so I dart inside the bathroom and climb into the shower. It’s a giant one with a built-in seat, and it has a mound of clean, fluffy towels hanging on the outside of its glass door. If I tuck my feet up on the bench and keep my head low, I can hide behind them.

Planting my butt on the cold tiles, I wrap my arms around my legs and breathe as quietly as I can as her husband walks inside. His shiny black shoes are visible through the bottom of the glass screen as he strides to the toilet. The scrape of a fly being unzipped cuts through the air, followed by the sound of liquid hitting liquid as he relieves himself.

I should put my fingers in my ears. Listening to someone pee seems like a gross invasion of privacy. Sliding my hands up my shins, I reach for my ears, but that’s when I see it.

The shower door is moving.

My heart rate kicks up, stealing my breath.

It’s creeping open, the weight of all the clean towels hung on the door too much for it to remain closed. Or maybe I didn’t shut it properly.

Bloody hell . . .

I stare at it in horror as it inches open further like it’s in slow motion.

The guy’s broad shoulders come into view first in his dark grey suit. His head is tilted back, like he’s savouring a few moments’ peace whilst he empties his bladder.

The gap widens, and I clamp my lips together to stop myself from squealing as more of him comes into view.

I don’t look away fast enough.

His dick, in all its glory, fills my vision.

My mouth drops open.

I didn’t think dicks could be beautiful. But my God, this man has a work of art between his legs. Long, thick, and highlighted by a ridged vein that runs up to a smooth, broad crown that’s glistening as he squeezes the final drops from the end of it.

I’m even more jealous of his wife than I was before. I bet he doesn’t fart mid-sex. And that dick is a multiple orgasm giver, there’s no way it isn’t.

‘Hurry up! I need you inside me!’ Tanya calls from the bedroom.

Instead of hurrying, the man lets out a long sigh and curses under his breath like he’s mentally preparing himself. I don’t get it. They were all over one another moments ago.

My attention drops back to his dick, and I tilt my head, admiring the way his hand looks wrapped around it. He grips it with purpose – skilled fingers cradling the weighty shaft, thumb sliding towards the wide, fat tip as he prepares to tuck it away.

I lean a little more and my head catches on something.

A shampoo bottle dislodges from the inbuilt shelf above my head and crashes to the floor.

The guy jerks, his gorgeous dick bouncing in his palm at the sudden movement.