Page 58 of Fake Out Hearts

I nod, still gripping myself with my gaze locked on hers. She’s not showing any signs of wanting to leave. And she isn’t hiding the fact that she’s drinking in the sight of me right now, either.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I give myself another long, slow stroke and can’t fight the groan it draws out of me. Her breath catches in her throat, and it only makes me bolder.

“Do you ever touch yourself while thinking of your husband?” I ask, and Becca’s face floods with red. Her teeth capture her lower lip, but she doesn’t look away.

Instead, she nods.

“Yes.”

Heat courses through me.As much as I wanted to hear her say that, I wasn’t sure she would. And now all caution is out the window because there’s no turning back. “Do it now. Let me see.”

Becca hesitates, looking around the room like someone else might be with us to see. But when she’s satisfied no one else is around, she slips a hand inside her loose-fitting sleep shorts and begins moving it in slow circles against herself. So I join her, and she matches her stroking to my rhythm.

We aren’t touching each other, and this isn’t technically sex, so is it too far? Fuck it. I don’t know or care anymore because I couldn’t take my eyes off her even if I wanted to—and I definitely don’t want to. Judging from the way Becca shoves her shorts and panties down to her ankles, I’m guessing she doesn’t either.

She slips two fingers inside herself and lets out a little moan that makes my cock jerk, which she doesn’t miss. She licks her lips at the sight, and all I can think about is how much I’d love tofeel them wrapped around me. To see her beautiful face looking up at me.

The glass in the shower stall is fogging up, blocking our view, so I shove it open. Steam rolls out into the bathroom toward her, and when it clears, giving her a full look at me, her mouth falls open a little.

I lift my free hand and beckon her closer with my fingers. Again, she hesitates, as if internally warring over whether she should dare get any closer, but eventually she steps out of the tangle of her shorts and panties and moves toward me.

She stops just on the other side of the shower, and she’s so close now I can hear her heavy breathing even over the hiss of the water. I stroke myself a few times, nodding at her, and she resumes. Her thumb traces circles around her clit, making her squint.

“That’s it, that’s my wife. Show me how good this makes you feel,” I say, and watch as goosebumps erupt across her soft skin. She reaches out like she’s going to rest her hand on my chest and my entire body tenses with anticipation, but she stops just before she reaches me and puts her palm on the foggy glass of the shower. Her head drops to my cock like she’s asking me for more, so I pick up my stroking.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she hisses.

“Is this how you imagine me when you touch yourself?”

She lets out a long exhale and nods, seeming unable to speak. She drags her palm slowly across her clit, making herself shudder, and hunger swells in me. I’m beyond tempted to pick her up and carry her back to my bed to do all the things and more I’ve been thinking about.

But I can’t. I don’t know what will happen if we cross that line again—but that doesn’t mean we can’t get right up to it.

“How turned on are you?”

Her eyes snap to mine. “Very,” she whispers, a slight rasp in her voice.

“Fuck. Me too. But I’m not going to come until you do. Can you do that for your husband?”

Becca shivers, her hand writhing against the shower wall. “I can’t stop it.”

“Then do it. Show me,” I say, picking up the speed of my strokes. I want to come with her, at the exact moment she teeters over the edge. We might not be able to share an orgasm like we did that first night, but this is close enough. And after all the tension between us lately, coupled with this incredible moment, my cock is so hard and swollen it hurts. I need the release as badly as I know she does.

Becca puts her fingers in a V-shape around her clit and rubs it between them. Her face is flushed, and her breathing turns erratic and labored while she speeds toward climax. It takes everything I have not to reach out, to slip my fingers inside her to truly push her over the edge. But somehow, I manage to keep my hands to myself—literally and figuratively.

Watching her breathe and please herself makes my cock swell, and I feel my body tense as release builds inside me. Becca gasps and her eyes flutter shut as she pushes a finger into herself. A ragged moan stutters in the back of her throat, and her hips roll against her hand while her legs tremble. She comes with a long, low groan, but she keeps herself standing using the shower wall.

I realize I’ve stopped breathing, so I gulp down air and turn in the shower as my own orgasm sweeps through me. I spurt into the shower, so much and so hard that my vision goes black. But when I come back into my body, I find my hand resting on the shower wall, matching perfectly against hers.

We stare at our hands, then at each other, and the tension is so thick I can taste it in the air. Becca’s looking at me with ahunger in her eyes I don’t think I’ve seen before, and it makes me absolutely fucking crazy. I want to take her back to bed and ravage her, just like the tiger in my tattoo.

We stand there silently, the hiss of the shower filling the silence, unable to look away from each other. This could be more. So much more. My resolve breaks, and I reach for her—but then the doorbell rings.

“Shit!” Becca whispers and darts back to her shorts. “Who’s that?”

“I have no idea. I’m not expecting anyone. Maybe it’s just a delivery or something?” I guess as I turn off the shower and pad out of the bathroom to the bedroom to find the clothes I’d thrown away in my earlier hurry. But the truth is, I’m not expecting a delivery either, so I don’t have a clue what’s going on.

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