Page 37 of Fighting Mr. Knight

She might be the worst dancer I’ve ever witnessed but she excels at the art of self-pleasure. It’s a performance that could reach a global scale.

Except it’s not a performance. This is a massive invasion of her privacy, making me a monster. I shouldn’t be watching.

But I can’t tear my eyes away from the sexy blonde Viking.

I suck in a sharp breath.

She’s close. She’s even fucking sweating.

Those whimpers.

I could come here in my boxers listening to her breathless little jerky moans even without the visuals.

She’s got headphones on. What’s she listening to?

What will she do if those pale blue eyes open? Hate me forever and never speak to me again?

Or invite me to join in?

My dick pulses, begging for an invitation to the party.

A low sound erupts from my throat. She doesn’t hear me. What the hell is she listening to?

Every part of her body is shaking. Her toes, her legs, her belly. Her head jerks violently backwards and her toes scrunch up in the bed as she rubs herself towards climax.

Closing the door as gently as my shaking hands will let me, I stand in the darkness of the hallway, with more wood than the Amazon.

I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon.

Is she thinking about me? Max? Maybe someone else entirely.

“Jack?”

I look up in the dim hallway to see Kate’s sister, Becky.

She flicks the light on her phone, pointing it at me. “Where are you . . .” Her jaw drops as she focuses the light downwards.

I glance down, dazed. Fuck, my dick is so hard it’s pushing through the slit in my boxers, giving her an eyeful. There’s no point trying to pretend it’s not there.

I rearrange myself and try to compose myself, which is pointless.

“Becky,” I address her through clenched teeth.

A red satin night set accentuates her pert breasts.

The light flashes between my face and my dick as if she’s unsure which to focus on.

“Do you want company?” She seems to be asking my dick. “I can’t sleep either.”

“I’m going to get a soft drink,” I mutter. Now I need something much stronger.

Becky blinks a few times, chewing on her lips. “Okaaay.” The look on her face tells me she’s not going to let me escape that easily. “You look . . . stressed . . . like you need help relaxing. We can go chill out in the living room for a while.”

“I’m fine,” I snap in a ragged voice. Change of plan, I need to get back to my room and have a freezing cold shower.

She sucks in a breath. “You don’t look fine.”

My cock rages in agreement with her.

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