Page 52 of Rival to the Billionaire

Grabbing my thick shaft harder, I pump myself, my clenched teeth barely able to hold back the series of murmuring moans that play in tune with the sound of the water pounding down on my head.

"God, Jenny."

Her name is a curse and blessing on my lips.

Rhythmic and wanting.

The rhythm of the water cascading over me, the now frenzied stroke of my hand as I imagine myself sliding down those cotton shorts and plunging myself into Jenny's sweet heat.

Pounding myself into her so deeply, so fiercely, she'd scream my name. I'd have no doubt that I'd be screaming hers, too.

Her hands would grip me tight, trying to hold me in place so that I wouldn't leave her.

So that I wouldn't…

"Ryder."

My head snaps up, the water sluicing off my back to be held at bay by the tightness in my chest.

The sound of her voice. Jenny's. Behind the door.

"Ryder."

With a roar, I spin around and step out of the shower, grabbing my towel off the rack and wiping my face clean.

"Is something wrong?" I call out, voice rough. Concern chokes the words out, but her soft voice stops in my march towards the door.

"No. Everything is fine. I just…I thought I heard something. I thought I heard my name."

I stop. Maybe all that screaming wasn’t only in my head. “No. I was showering."

"Oh."

"Sorry to wake you." Silence fills the space as I step toward the door, slowly opening it. There she is. Standing there with red-rimmed eyes, her tank and sleep shorts slightly ruffled. She's barefoot and I notice the slenderness of her bare legs, her calves.

"Look, we don't have to share a room. If you're uncomfortable…"

She looks at me, her expression almost unreadable. I'm not a mind reader. But her gaze roving over me holds more than a hint of curiosity.

"It's fine,” she replies. “I should get some sleep. Tomorrow, we both need to be at our best for the conference. We'll be working ‘round the clock."

"Okay," is all I manage.

She pinches her lips together, nodding, giving me an awkward smile before she turns around and walks back to the bed.

There is a long stretch of dead air as I watch her with trepidation, before she turns back around.

"Good night then."

"Good night."

There is a long moment of silence before I finally step back into the still-running shower, throwing my towel back over the rack.

I'm still dripping wet, soap in my hair, adrenaline in my blood.

My eyes sting; I raise my hand and wipe away the tears.

I don't know if they come from the soap, or from somewhere deeper.

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