Page 17 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I remembered the way his gaze had held me still, the low warmth of his voice saying I was beautiful.
The thought made my breath hitch, my palms flattening against slick skin as a different kind of tension coiled low in my stomach.
I let my head fall forward, letting the water mask the sound of my uneven breathing.
God, it had been forever since I’d felt anything close to this—a need that wasn’t about survival or stress relief, but about being wanted.
My thighs pressed together unconsciously, the ache sharp enough that my body refused to ignore it.
My hand slid down, slow at first, until my fingers found the place that throbbed with need.
A breath caught in my throat as I pressed harder, chasing a feeling I hadn’t let myself have in too long.
My other hand flattened on the tile, keeping me steady while I moved my fingers in tight, sure strokes.
I pictured Harrison behind me in the shower instead of standing in my classroom doorway.
I imagined his chest close to my back, his hand gripping my hip, his mouth against my neck.
He would say the same thing he’d said earlier, but rougher this time, his lips brushing my ear as he called me beautiful.
The thought sent a shiver through me.
My hips rocked forward, my breath turning ragged as I worked myself faster.
I imagined him turning me toward him, pinning me against the wall, his thigh parting mine as his hands slid everywhere I craved them.
My fingers slipped over swollen flesh, heat spreading fast through my stomach, my legs starting to shake.
A low sound left my throat, the shower hiding it from anyone else, but the fantasy only burned hotter.
I wanted his hands, his weight, his mouth on me until I couldn’t think anymore.
I imagined Harrison’s hands covering mine, guiding the pace, his voice low and rough in my ear telling me not to stop.
The image tightened something deep inside me, need twisting hard, unstoppable now.
In my mind, he lifted me, pressed me to the wall, his hips grinding against me as his mouth claimed mine.
I felt the phantom heat of him everywhere, his weight pinning me, his fingers replacing mine and working me harder, relentlessly until I broke apart for him.
The fantasy dragged me closer to the edge, every muscle straining, my breath coming out in broken sounds I couldn’t hold back.
The climax ripped through me, my knees weak as I sagged against the wall.
A small cry escaped my throat, muffled by the rush of water.
My body trembled as waves of pleasure rolled through me, leaving me spent and shaking, clinging to the tile for support.
When it passed, I stood there catching my breath, water pouring over my flushed skin, the thought of Harrison still lingering like a secret I couldn’t wash away.
And it was chased by shame that I'd allowed myself to want that—to desire a man I knew was entirely out of my league, and based on previous experience in my life, probably not the type of man who would stick around.
I shut the water off and climbed out of the shower after rinsing off.
The sore spot in my heart left behind when my father ran out on us and left my mother to spiral into alcoholism would never quite heal.
I knew that much.
