Page 72 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

While unbuttoning and stripping off his white shirt.

My breath caught in my throat, and I silently sank lower into the bubbly water, with only my eyes peeking out. He flicked onthe lights, then hung his shirt on the towel ladder, not noticing me. I was holding my breath, trying to stay very, very still, and very, very quiet. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, horrified yet fascinated, as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He had his back to me, presenting me with the amazing sight of his perfect ass, his black boxers snugly hugging it.

Instead of a relaxing bubble bath, I had a front-row seat to an impromptu striptease. By myridiculously gorgeousfucking hotfake boyfriend.

The polite thing to do would be to close my eyes. Or yell out to announce my presence. Probably both. But I wasn’t feeling very polite right now, so instead, I resurfaced and craned my neck to get a better look. And anyway, it was undoubtedly way, way too late. Should have said something the minute he walked into the bathroom. I’d just wait this out—it would be over in a few minutes.

Then he slipped out of those snug boxers, and my heart nearly stopped.

With his back facing me, he stepped into the shower, still oblivious that I was hidden in the corner bathtub, unable to take my eyes off him. Turning the faucet on, he drenched himself under the stream of hot water, before picking up my shampoo bottle, sniffing it, then squeezing out a generous amount. His hands worked methodically, kneading and massaging the shampoo all over his hair. Next, he pumped out blobs of my soap onto his hands, rubbing them together before lathering it all over his body. First on his neck, then on his arms, then on his back, followed by his chest.

This wasn’t just your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill striptease. It was a real-life porn movie, and I was enjoying it too much to tear my gaze away. He stretched his neck, trying to getwater onto his left side, and turned around, giving me a full-length, uncensored, breathtaking view of a gloriously naked Alec.

So. Very. Naked.

His hands kept working, rubbing the soap on his stomach, then down his thighs, all around his legs and backside, making showering look so sexy like it was nobody’s business.

That was when my mouth decided to betray my brain, producing a low, breathy sigh I’dnever, everheard before in my whole life, alerting him to my presence. Startled, he looked up and locked eyes with mine.

Wet, naked Alec Mackenzie caught me watching him rub soap all over his body.

My breath hitched, before stopping for a few seconds. Maybe even a few hours, for all I knew. If I died right now, it would entirely be his fault, no two ways about it. The coroner should rule out foul play, but they’d probably announce that my cause of death was a rare but deadly combination of prolonged breathing difficulty and striptease-induced extreme arousal.

What a way to go, though.

My only regret was that I wouldn’t have the chance to say my goodbyes to Eric, Naomi, Kim, and Jenna. Make amends with my parents. Or update my will. Run a marathon, float in the Dead Sea, build white picket fences and live happily ever after, the list goes on.

But back to the more pressing matters at hand.

Alec had stilled, his eyes slowly widening, his hands paused between his legs. Swallowing, I forced myself to blink, debating my next move. But before I could decide, his eyes turned darker, and his hands started moving again. My eyes followed them as he deliberately and slowly lathered more soap all over himself: his chest, his abs, then back between his legs, where a part of him stood up to attention.

Wet, naked Alec Mackenziegot hardwatching me watching him rub soap all over his body.

I had never, ever been so turned on in my whole life. If I could fan myself, I would.

He took his sweet time rinsing the soap off, a seductive smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Reaching behind him to turn off the water, he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist, never once breaking eye contact with me. Then he strolled over and kneeled at the side of the bath, casually propping his dripping wet arm on the edge of the bathtub, his face only inches away from mine.

“I hope you enjoyed that.” His voice, rough as gravel, rumbled in my ear. I shivered, as if he’d touched and caressed every single inch of my bare skin. Dropping his eyes to my mouth, he gave me one last sizzling look before standing up. “I sure as hell did.”

Fuuuuuccckkkk.

He walked out without another word, and I let out a long, ragged breath. My heart had made a huge, nonstop ruckus throughout Alec’s performance, and it was a miracle I had survived the earth-shattering act.

The bath water had turned cold, but I wasn’t going to risk getting out of the bathroom now. I’d wait until he was safely tucked in his room, maybe even stay here until next week, if the situation called for it. I could Uber some takeaway food so I wouldn’t starve.

But while waiting, there was nothing wrong with replaying those red-hot moments on repeat, right? I wasn’t even going to overanalyze his words, because I was already teetering on a precariously slippery slope, in danger of plummeting headfirst into a dark, bottomless abyss, crushing my head—and my heart—with no way up.

A long time later, when I’d been sufficiently pruned, finally confident it was safe to go out, I rinsed the bath and reached for my towel.

Only to find that it was missing.

Alec had takenthe only freaking towel in this bathroom.

Panic threatened to overtake me. There was nothing else I could use to dry off and cover myself. The only items that would even be remotely useful were a mediocre-sized facecloth, a soggy bath mat, and his old shirt and pants. The facecloth barely covered my face, the bath mat was out of the question, so that left me with two lousy options: (a) slipping on his old shirt; or (b) sprinting stark naked to my room while praying nobody (him) caught me.

All the points in the pros column were overwhelmingly in favor of the shirt, so I gingerly slipped it on. It smelled of citrus and spice and him, and against my better judgment, I lifted the collar to my nose, inhaling his scent. After doing the top two buttons, just enough to cover the run to my room, I opened the door and peeked outside.

Silence. The coast was clear.It’s go time.

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