Page 111 of You're The One
“No physical stuff. I’ll smile. I’ll be charming. But I’m not crossing boundaries. Mia’s trust means more to me than your story.”
He studies me, then lets out a dramatic sigh that I take as agreement.
I pop my earbud back in.
Is there any better feeling than washing the plane off after a long flight? After nine plus hours next to Bodhi, I feel like I need to cleanse more than just my body.
I turn the dial until the water runs hot.
At least we came up with a plan I actually feel good about. Logan would be so proud.
With nothing on the schedule tonight, knowing Mia has a room to herself, and having production’s blessing—okay, maybe more like reluctant acceptance—I want to surprise her and share the good news.
Maybe we’ll take a walk on Waikiki beach. Maybe we’ll just order room service. Honestly, I’m good with anything, as long as I get to do it in her presence.
Fuck.Just thinking about seeing her has blood pooling south.
I let the warm spray fall over my skin. With body wash in hand, I run my hands over my chest and down my stomach.
I continue my descent until I reach my half-hard cock, wrapping a hand around it and stroking slowly. When I close my eyes, her face is there—the same as it’s been in more than a few of my fantasies.
Pale blue eyes. Water beading along milky skin and dark lashes. A single drop clings to her bottom lip, and her tongue darts out to catch it.
A shiver rolls through me as my grip on my shaft tightens.
I follow the path of the water as it trails down her slender neck, slipping over her collarbone and across the swell of her breast. Her hair, jet black when wet, clings to her damp skin in inky strands.
My hand moves, thumb brushing slowly over her hard nipple. I ache to taste the water on her skin, but instead, my tongue grazes my own lip, chasing the thought.
I replay our kiss. The softness of her lips. The way she opened for me. The slide of her tongue, and the way her body fit perfectly against mine.
Her hand slipping between her thighs.
Her back arching when she came.
Her needy sounds, and the rasp of my name.
On the next upstroke, my fist twists at the head. My thumb swipes over the tip, slick with precum, making the slide down smoother.
I imagine it’s her hand instead of mine. Her mouth on my throat, her lips dragging lower, her tongue flicking out?—
Knock.
Knock.
Whoever it is can wait.
A low groan slips out as I brace my forearm against the tile wall, head bowed, strokes growing faster, more desperate.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Are they trying to knock down the door? I can hear it over my heartbeat, the rush of water, and through the bathroom door.
Pound. Pound.
