Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(78)

As my hand slaps across my mouth to keep myself from making a sound, my eyes go impossibly wide.

Is he . . .

“Yes,” he hisses. “Fuck.”

Holy shit, he is.

I gently set the tile samples on the bed, not wanting them to make any noise when I cautiously pad across the carpet, keeping light on my toes, to press my ear against the bathroom door.

It’s left open slightly, but I don’t dare look inside. I stay hidden, listening closely to hear the distinct sound of skin sliding against skin.

Rio groans and the sound instantly does something to me. Turns me on. Turns me reckless.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be listening. But I’ve been busy doing things I shouldn’t be doing lately, so what’s one more?

The shower walls work as an amplifier when he says, “Goddammit, Hallie, yes.”

I’m frozen in place. Entirely fucking cemented right outside of his bathroom, listening to him get himself off while saying my name.

I want to see him. I want to watch him work his fist over himself. I want a front-row view to witness this man come undone.

Fuck it. If he’s saying my name, I’m basically in the room already.

Just a quick glance.

I lean forward slightly, peeking through the cracked door. His shower is a glass surround, thank God, and the steam hasn’t obstructed the view.

And what a view it is.

Palm flat to the tile wall, Rio uses his other hand to stroke himself. Water pummels over his back, dripping down his body as he works his fist over his cock, pulling and tugging.

And moaning.

God, the moaning alone is a soundtrack I could come to. He sounds so desperate, so turned on, coupled with the slick sound of quick pumps along his shaft.

His entire side profile is on display. Long, sculpted back, lean waist, perfect fucking ass, and ridiculously thick thighs. He really is huge now with all that added muscle, but my current favorite ones are those in his forearms, flexing and moving as he strokes himself.

He’s thick . . . everywhere.

But of course, I already knew that.

His stomach tightens. His chest heaves. He pumps over and over, focusing on the head, and I can tell he’s close. And as much as I want to watch him, to remember the look on his face when he comes, I know I shouldn’t be here.

Pulling back, I hide behind the door once again.

“Hallie,” he repeats, short of breath.

It has me closing my eyes and crossing my legs from hearing him say my name like that again. Like it’s a pleading prayer moments before he finishes.

“Hallie.” His voice is muffled from the water still, but it’s projected for me to hear. “If you’re going to stand out there and listen, you may as well come in and watch. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Oh shit.

How’d he—

Panic takes over and mortification settles in, but he’s the one getting off on ideas of me while I’m in his house, so if anyone is going to be embarrassed, it shouldn’t be me.

I swallow hard, still hidden in his bedroom, spine flush to the wall. “How’d you know I was out here?”

He laughs, and I can hear that his hand hasn’t slowed in pace one bit.

I fake composure. “You told me to come up to your room if I wanted to hang out.”

“Perfect. You can hang out in here.”

“Rio.”

“Get in here, Hal.”

I know I don’t have to do what he says, but fuck it, I want to.

I take a centering breath, turn the corner, and slowly push the door open. He’s in the same position, only showing me his right-side profile, but thankfully that’s the hand he’s using to pump himself, giving me that same unobstructed view.

I take a slow sweeping glance up his body, taking my time and not being shy in my perusal. And when I make it to his face, I find his eyes locked on me.

His dark hair is wet and slick to his forehead. His green eyes are heated and heavy. His lips, they’re parted and panting, but he slips the bottom one between his teeth as he watches me.

I’m completely mesmerized by his movements, unable to look away. His hand never stops stroking, and my attention falls to the head, red and swollen, leaking precum onto the shower floor.

I swallow hard. “I thought sex was off the table?”

“It is. I’m not fucking you. I’m just fucking my fist thinking of you.”

Jesus.

No, we don’t tend to be shy with each other, but to hear him speak like this, so confidently, so directly . . . It’s hot.

“Fuck, Hallie, keep looking at me like that.”

I step fully into the bathroom, leaving the doorway. “Like what?”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Like you wish it was your mouth getting me off and not my hand.”

I nod quickly, telling him that’s exactly what I want to do.

Every muscle in his body fires at that, his head thrown back. “I’m going to come just thinking about it.”

He keeps his attention on me and that heated look has my core clenching and my legs tightening.

Mirroring his confidence, I take another step towards him. “Does that feel good?”

He chuckles this disbelieving laugh. “You have no idea. And fuck, please keep talking. Hearing your voice is going to make me come.”