And he’d been giving all day; it was time for him to take.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“It’s kinda embarrassing,” I warned and his arm around my waist squeezed.
“What?”
“You know… in Vegas?” I started but then couldn’t continue.
He gave me a minute and when I didn’t say more, he prompted, “Yeah, I know Vegas.”
“I mean, when we were there.”
Again I said no more.
Again he had to prompt and he did this by asking, “What?”
“That day I came in and threw sass about breakfast.”
“What about it?”
I pressed closer then I sucked in breath.
Then I whispered, “I’d actually come back to the room earlier.”
His body stilled beside mine.
“I saw you in the shower,” I whispered.
He stayed still and silent.
Then he growled, “You’re f**kin’ shittin’ me.”
My head came up and I looked down at him to see his face was blank.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“I’m sorry. I…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just…” My hand at his chest drifted up to curl around his neck and I needed to instigate damage control so I whispered the truth, “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
He blinked.
“I wanted to join you,” I admitted.
His eyebrows went up as he blinked again, this time slow.
“Like… bad,” I finished.
“Why the f**k didn’t you?” he asked, voice edged with impatience then he didn’t wait for an answer and went on. “Christ, woman, torture. Spendin’ time with you, sleepin’ beside you and hands off and you tell me, a coupla days in, you saw that and wanted to let me inside?”
“Well –”
“That why you took care of yourself in the shower later?” he asked and it was my turn to blink.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“Babe, heard you make yourself come.”
Oh God. Oh no. Oh God. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.