Page 50 of Heroes & Hitmen
Tossing the blanket aside, Miley rises to her feet– and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
The silk pajama set clings to her like a second skin, delicate straps sliding over smooth shoulders. Her nipples are clearly visible through the ivory fabric, hard from the chill of the air conditioning, bare legs long and golden. She stretches her arms over her head, a sliver of bare stomach flashing beneath the hem of her top.
Instant. Fucking. Boner.
She turns to head for the hallway, treating me to a view of her round ass in those little silk shorts, my pulse skipping.
“But what if I get cold?” I call after her, voice an octave rougher than before. “What if I freeze to death in my sleep?”
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk that could bring a man to his knees. “If you die in your sleep, I’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”
“You’d miss me,” I say.
She doesn’t answer, just continues down the hall and disappears into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Well shit.
Guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.
CHAPTER 17
Miley
I waketo the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, pulsing with the kind of anxiety that turns dreams to dust and sets your entire body on edge before your brain even catches up. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, but the light filtering in through the sheer curtains is brighter than normal. A littletoobright…
I roll over and smack at the phone on my nightstand, blinking at the screen to read the time. When my eyes focus on the numbers, a surge of pure terror jolts me upright.
I overslept.
Ineversleep through my alarm, never forget to set it when I go to bed, but apparently hell has frozen over today because the numbers on the clock don’t lie.
Throwing the covers aside, I launch myself out of bed like it’s on fire, my silk pajamas half-twisted around my body as I make a mad dash toward the bathroom. If I’m quick in the shower, I can still make it to class on time. I can still salvage this temporary lapse in sanity.
I dash across the bedroom in a half-blind frenzy, nearly face-planting into the bathroom door. My fingers fumble with the handle before I wrench it open and barrel through, a wall of steam hitting me. I squint through the haze, the shower glass clearing just enough for my bleary eyes to register a naked Ares behind it.
My brain short-circuits.
There he is, in all his six-foot-something glory, framed in glass and dripping with condensation like a living, breathing porn ad.He’s got one big hand braced against the tile wall, head bowed, copper hair plastered to his forehead, while the other hand is…oh god.
He’s jacking off.
Not subtly, either.
The rhythm is steady, practiced, as if he’s done this a hundred times before– which, let’s face it, he probably has. His jaw is locked, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. I can’t even process the rest of it– his broad back, the muscles rippling under tan skin, the tattoo inked along his ribs.Holy fuck.
My first instinct is to scream, though dying on the spot comes at a close second. My mouth falls open, but the only sound that manages to escape is a strangled yelp.
Ares’ head snaps up, our gazes colliding through the blurry glass. There’s a split second where neither of us moves. Then his mouth curves into a feral, lazy grin, as if he’s just been caught doing something adorable instead of beating his meat.
His hand starts moving again, and that’s all it takes to shatter my paralysis.
“Jesus– what the fuck!” I gasp, hurling myself out of the bathroom and slamming the door so hard behind me that I swear the walls shake.
I collapse back against it, squeezing my eyes shut and panting like I just ran a marathon. My heart’s in my throat, my stomach’s in my ass, and there’s a heat pulsing between my thighs that I refuse to acknowledge.
Deep breaths, Miley.
In, out.
