“Oh my God.” She freezes. “Oh. My. God.”
My eyes are locked on that scenery I refused to look at before, even though the temptation could not be greater to see what’s in my hands. “Indy, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sorry! I was going to get my things out of the shower for you.”
Calloused fingers curl into the soft, warm flesh on her back, and my teeth clench together. “I need you to very carefully pick your towel up off the ground. Right now.”
If I thought I had strong self-control before, nothing compares to the restraint I’m experiencing at this moment because as she slowly bends to the ground, she brushes against my cock. I hiss an inhale, as if all my blood wasn’t already headed in that direction before she grazed it.
Her laugh holds an awkward edge. “Oops. Sorry.”
As soon as I sense her body is covered once again, I take the final step into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
What the fuck sort of evil thing did I manage to do in order to earn this kind of temptation? I’ve gone years, years without giving a woman as much as a second glance, and now the one I can’t stop thinking about is living in my house.
Fuck. The bathroom smells like her. I smell like her from holding her in my lap all night. Part of me doesn’t want to wash her off my skin, but most of me knows I need to take care of the painful erection I’ve tried to hide all night before I crawl into bed next to her.
I let the water pound against my back as I brace my palms on the wall. I shouldn’t do this, but the need is too strong. I won’t picture her, though. I won’t picture anyone.
But as soon as my fist wraps around my cock, an image invades my mind. Indy on her knees, soft brown eyes begging for my dick.
No. No, stop picturing her.
Indy’s lips form a pretty little “O” as she bats her lashes, looking up at me from the shower floor. Her lilac-painted fingers are clawing at my thighs and hips, needy and begging for me to let her work.
My fingers entangle in those blonde tresses, pulling her hair the way I’ve pictured since the day she walked into my apartment. A quick lash of her tongue heats the underside of my tip, all the while she keeps her attention on me.
Fuck, I wish this were real. I stroke myself, imagining it is. Her coconut body wash sits on the ledge, and without thinking, I pour some into my palm, rub it against my skin, and create a lather before using the slickness on my cock. Her scent invades my nostrils, creating an even more convincing picture.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I remind her, tugging her chin down with my thumb, opening her mouth.
Her pink lips form into a pout. “But I want to. I need to. Please, Ryan.”
Goddamn, I love the way she says my name and imagining her voice when she says it brings me that much closer to the edge.
“I know how to make you feel better.” She swirls her tongue around the head. “Please let me make you feel better.”
“You want it, Blue?”
She nods, all doe-eyed and innocent. It’s one of my favorite things about Indy, how confident and charismatic she is to the outside world, but then she’s soft to those who know her.
I pick her up off the ground, slinging those long legs around my waist and pushing her back to the tiled wall. “Then let me give it to you.”
I tighten my hand around my base, pulling and stroking, keeping my eyes closed as the water beats down on me.
My cock slides against her pussy and she lets out the prettiest little whimper.
I want to fuck her so badly it hurts.
“You feel…” Her chest pounds against mine, trying to catch her breath. “God, you feel so good, Ryan.”
She does too, according to my imagination. I pick up the speed and tighten my grasp, imagining it’s Indy’s body clenching around me and not my own fist.
“Put it in. Put it in. Please,” she begs. “I need you. Please.”
She bucks her hips off the wall, needing to meet mine, and as soon as I imagine pushing into her, jets of cum hit the shower tile with force. My release is almost blinding as I come harder than I have in a very long time. Continuing to stroke myself, I let every last drop fall and swirl down the drain, allowing the water to wash away what I just did.
With an acute awareness, I realize how utterly and completely wrong I was, thinking that would get Indy out of my system. Now, my body is begging for the real thing, wanting to know what she sounds like when she comes.
If I were any other man, I’d go find someone else to sleep with and get a quick fuck out of my system, hoping it’d fix the issue. But seeing as I’m me, and I can’t allow myself to be vulnerable enough, even for a one-night stand, I’m left dreaming of the blonde living in my house.
If I’m being honest with myself, I know no one else would do it for me right now. No one else has done it for me in years, but that doesn’t change that this can’t happen. I won’t allow it. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and the first thing I’ll think about is my game. My day will continue that way, until I wake the following morning and do it all over again. Rinse and repeat until my mindset is back where it should be—my career.
This fucked-up daydream—the one where I can’t seem to think about anything other than getting into bed with Indy—ends the second we leave this goddamn campsite.
Indy’s back is towards me when I leave the bathroom, wearing only my towel. The cabin is small and she’s everywhere. Her clothes. Her smell.
“Enjoy your shower?” she asks.
Best fucking shower of my life. The teasing tone of her voice tells me I could bet good money that she heard me and already knows the answer.
“Yeah, it was very—”
“Wet.”
Fuck me. Just hearing the word wet pop out of her mouth has me gearing up for another round with my hand.
“Yes, Blue. The shower was wet.”
She giggles at the innuendo, and I drop the towel, slipping into a pair of shorts while she’s still facing away from me.
“No pillows?” I round the bed to find my side empty.
“Not tonight. I guess you’ll do.” She eyes my chest, those brown eyes appearing more hooded than usual. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Lucky you.”
She softly laughs and as I lift the cover to slip under her sheets, I ask, “Is this okay?”
Shyly, she nods her head.
Dipping between the sheets, I’m cautious to leave some room between us. I lay on my side to face her. “Thank you again. For helping me out tonight.”
“I had fun.” She tucks her hands under her cheek as we maintain a good foot of space between us.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re getting better at faking it. We might have a real shot of pulling this off at the wedding.”
The realization of why it might come more naturally to me now is terrifying.
“Good.” I offer her a slight lift of my lips before turning around to face the wall. “Night, Blue.”
“Good night.” She exhales a long breath, and I can feel the dip in the bed as she turns around too.
I need to sleep. I have a game tomorrow, and the sooner I can pass out, the sooner this outing is over. I know I should be looking forward to this evening ending so I can refocus on the purpose for this charade—to prove I can be a good leader, to actually lead this team to the playoffs—but I don’t want it to be over. I like that people believe she’s mine. I like how it feels to have her in my bed.