I shouldn’t even be here.
I should tiptoe out of the room before he senses my presence.
That’s what any decent human being would do.
But he steps into the shower, tilts his head back, the water pelting his face. Heat ripples through me. I can almost feel the warmth of the shower hitting him rhythmically.
Soap suds slide down his back and I track them shamelessly, pulse thudding in my throat. His shoulders roll as he scrubs. His thighs tense and relax. It’s impossible to keep my gaze from lowering, and I stay transfixed.
Then he turns.
I’ve imagined him plenty of times. Filled in the blanks.
But nothing, nothing prepared me for the vibration I feel as my eyes follow the V carved low on his abdomen, the trail of hair leading down to his magnificent, half-hard cock.
Oh. God.
His erection grows. “Ah, fuck,” he mutters, the curse vibrating through me.
He wraps his fist around his cock, and my hand slides under my panties.
Everything about this is wrong, and yet the craving takes over. My body responds to his.
Head thrown back, bracing against the wall with one hand, he increases his pace. The crease between his brow deepens ashe opens his eyes partway. It feels like he’s looking at me, even though he can’t possibly see me in the dark room.
Still, I fantasize as the air between us seems to hum.
What would it feel like to have him hover over me, come inside me, kiss me, whisper my name as he made me his? If I were brave enough, I’d take my clothes off right this minute and slide into the shower, get on my knees, and finish him off. There’s no way he’d say no to that. No rejection possible.
Turns out, I’m a wimp because I stay hidden and come on my fingers, which is absolutely frustrating and does nothing to quiet my ache for him. It’s been brewing for a while; it was going somewhere with that almost kiss the day we found the puppies.
As he steps out of the shower and towels off, I dash to the couch and duck under the duvet he laid out, burying myself in his scent. I try to calm my heartbeat, but it’s still wild in my chest when Noah comes out of the bathroom and flicks the light off. By the sound of it, he’s turning down the sheets. All senses alert, I wait for him.
thirty-one
Noah
She was watching me. I know she was. I could feel it. I almost,almostcalled her out on it.
I considered asking if she wanted to join me.
I considered bringing her to bed like I normally do, then sliding in with her. She’d be under me right now, or maybe on top of me, or maybe her mouth would be wrapped around my cock.
But it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.
Too impulsive. Because I don’t trust myself not to change my mind, I don’t go even near the couch. I spend the night in what I’ve come to think of as her bed. The next morning, I set her coffee on a side table near the couch and dash out.
I’m crouched next to our rescues when she comes into the kitchen. “Awww,” she coos. Without a hint at what happened last night, she sets her cup in the sink.
Maybe she didn’t see me.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she says with a sweet smile as she sits next to me on the floor, close enough that our knees are touching.
Maybe she wasn’t there at all.
Two of the three puppies climb on her, their mother greeting her with a tail wag. One of the puppies licks her face when she lifts it and kisses it on the nose. “Aren’t they cute?” she whispers.
The little guy lets a stream of pee hit her horizontally. “Oh you little devil you,” she says, laughing. Doesn’t put him down, certainly doesn’t seem to mind. She just nuzzles him closer. “You peeing because you scared or you peeing because you comfy? Hmm? Which is it?” Then she cradles him against her, the wetness on her sweatshirt smearing on his fur as she pets him like a perfectly clean stuffed animal.
