The icy chill shocks my system and I vaguely register that this is most definitely not the best time to have an ice-cold shower. I wouldn’t want to leave her with the wrong impression here.
I mean, look; I’m a solid build, confident, good lookin’ southern man.
Ain’t like I’ve had much to ever be self-conscious about. I know what I’m packing. Always have—never exactly been a source of complaint. Hell, there’s even been an applause a time or two.
But today?Between the ice-cold water, the perfect conditions for shrinkage and the fact it feels like I tried to marinate my dick in lighter fluid... let’s just say, this ain’t my highlight reel.
My balls are somewhere near my kidneys, my dick’s still singin’ the national anthem of pain, and yet—
I glance down.
Relief slides through me like whiskey on a sore throat.
Still there. Still swingin’. Still hangin’ heavy, despite the trauma.
Hell, my guy’s resilient.
“Good boy,” I mutter under my breath as I clear my throat, because if anything deserved a damn medal tonight, it’s him.
I canfeelMia’s gaze on my back, and I shift slightly, and yep—there it is. He's not just surviving, he's showin' up like he’s now the third person in the shower with us.
I look over my shoulder and see her trailing her eyes down my body. The way she’s watching me—hell, it’s not even fair. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the water, that mouth slick and pink, parted just enough to make my thoughts turn criminal. A few damp strands cling to her collarbone, drawing my eyes down to her covered breasts and my mouth goes dry at her golden skin and curves that won’t quit.
I swear, if she looks at me any longer, there’s a good chancehe’sgonna start waving like he’s got manners.
Fuck.
My body’s still angled away, keeping my lower halfstrategically shielded. I don’t need to see her to feel it—the weight of her gaze crawling up my spine, the kind that makes a man feel bare in all the ways that matter. I stay still. Let her take her fill. Let her watch the way water tracks down my back, the way my shouldersflex when I brace against the tile. Let her see what she does to me without laying a single damn finger on me.
Then I turn my head.
Just enough to catch her in the act. Her eyes lock with mine, wide and stormy, like she’s caught between a cliff and the jump. She turns away a second later, like she hadn’t been caught devouring me with her eyes, like that moment didn’t shake her to the core.
But I saw it. Every flicker of want written clear as day on her face.
My hand reaches out, twisting the tap off with a heavy clunk that leaves nothing but the sound of her breathing in the silence and I turn to face her.
Because I need to see it.
Every flicker of emotion. Every hesitation. Every truth she might not even mean to show.
I don't want to just hear the answer—I want towitnessit dance across her face in real time. Raw, unfiltered.
Silence falls—thick, humming with unsaid things. I hold my breath, waiting, pulse hammering like I just rode a rank bull bareback.
My voice comes out low—too low—rougher than I mean it to.
“So,” I say, my voice low, rougher than I intend “Who were you thinking about, when you were touching yourself Mia?”
I revel in the sound of her sharp inhale and her eyes blowing wide. That pause. That charged silence.
After a beat, her voice comes out quiet, but it slices through me like a lightning strike as she turns to face me fully.
“You know who,” she says finally.
My throat tightens. “I want to hear you say it.” I say in a low growl.
A pause.
