Dropping The Ball - A New Year’s Billionaire Romance - Weston Parker Page 0,26

body was carved from rock-hard muscle.

It wasn’t such a leap to picture a guy his size as well-endowed, and in my head, he knew exactly what to do with it. My thighs trembled when I trailed one hand lower, dipping it between them to rub myself where I was aching to have him touch me.

His hands would be so much bigger and rougher than mine, but I ignored that fun fact for the moment. When I brushed a finger over my clit with the lightest of touches, I moaned again and let my forehead fall forward against the warm tiles.

There was a shower seat installed in here, and though I’d never used it before, I realized it could be a lot more useful than I’d thought of before.

A naughty thrill ran through me. Am I really doing this?

Heck, yeah, I was. Just because it’d been a while didn’t mean the sexually confident woman who lived inside me had taken her things and gone in search of more active playgrounds—maybe she’d just been on a break too.

As I sat down on the warm bench, I extended my legs before spreading them and leaned with my head against the shower wall. Steam filled the cubicle, making it feel a little more sultry and maybe even a little more protected. Even if Carter did burst in here for some reason, he still wouldn’t immediately see what I was up to.

Not that it would be a terrible thing if he sees. Mortifying, unless of course he decided to join me. Using that thought as my starting point, I was soon biting back moans as pleasure coursed through me.

When I was done, I finally got around to doing what I’d come in here to do. Once my hair was washed and my skin was scrubbed, I climbed out, dried off, and put on my pajamas. It was still early, but I was ready to turn in.

If only my life was half as exciting as the tabloid rumors make it out to be.

Before I got into bed, I remembered that I hadn’t brought a water glass with me. I grabbed my robe from the hook on my wall and cracked my bedroom door open to check if the coast was clear.

After what I’d just done to thoughts of him, I would probably turn the color of a beet if I ran into Carter right now. I made it all the way to the kitchen and filled a glass from the faucet until I found out that I’d been one hundred percent correct.

I turned to find him walking into the kitchen, and my face burst into flames. It was so bad that I almost dumped the glass of water over my own head.

“It’s not even cold enough,” I muttered out loud before I could stop myself.

Ah, shit. My very own ‘I carried a watermelon’ moment. I’d always wondered what it would feel like to have a moment like that, and now I knew. Lucky me.

Carter frowned but didn’t say anything while I scrambled to think of a way to salvage the situation. “Sorry, I was wondering about something.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered, leaning with his shoulder against the door and looking every bit the yummy bodyguard he was in a fitted black T-shirt.

“Not unless you want to talk about whether certain outfits I own are appropriate for this weather.” What? Why did I say that? I don’t even really care about clothes, and I know how to dress myself warmly enough.

Desperately needing some measure of control over my mouth back, I focused on him instead. “Can I help you find something in here?”

“I actually just came to make something to eat.” He lifted a plastic container he was holding and I just hadn’t seen. “I thought you’d already gone to bed. Otherwise, I would’ve waited.”

Shame and guilt smacked me upside the head. “I’m so sorry. I ate on my way home this afternoon. I didn’t even think about offering to make you something earlier. Can I fix you a sandwich?”

“I have some leftovers,” he said.

“I’ll fix you a sandwich anyway. I went to the market this morning, so there’s lots of awesome stuff to put on it.” I spun around and opened the fridge, extracting just about everything that one could put on bread.

A low groan echoed in the kitchen when he saw some of the ingredients I’d unpacked. “Do you honestly keep smoked salmon and wild rocket in your fridge?”

“Not usually, but I might

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