Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
“Oh my fucking god,” I whisper the words, so Rhodes doesn’t hear me. The outline of his body is on full display. The steam is doing me no favors, but I can make out his silhouette, ripped arm muscles, corded thighs, one hand holding him up in a prone position, and the other hand… well, let’s just say I’m stopped dead in my tracks. My hand covers my mouth when I swear he utters my name. This is nothing like helping him in and out of the shower. Those days were so hard, literally and figuratively. I’d help him get in, turn around until he was situated, and then I’d wait in his room. My ear on alert in case of a fall, but no issue ever arose…except his cock.
I lick my lips, recalling when I’d helped him out of the shower. The only thing wrapped around his body would be a towel. There were more than a few times when I’d hope for the fabric to drop a smidge, wanting to see exactly what his happy trail led to. Hell, I’d have loved if it dropped to the floor. The shorts he wears do absolutely nothing to hide the fact of how nice and thick his cock is. I really should leave, let him finish taking care of himself, and run to my room to do similar. Instead, I stay as still and quiet as possible, wanting to watch as he lets go, wishing it were my hand around his dick.
My legs tremble, my body is burning up, and the flesh pebbling on my heated skin is an anomaly of its own. Hot yet cold to the touch. A small moan rolls through me. The noise is louder than I expected. My hand goes to my mouth, attempting to keep it together. Rhodes' movements slow, as if he’s heard me, and I’m cussing myself up and down for staying as long as I have.
I should not be watching him. I should go to my room. I should do so many things, except I can’t.
He re-doubles his efforts, going harder and faster, then his body locks up, and that’s when I hear my name, loud and clear, tumbling off his lips in the most decadent way possible. The cadence is deep and powerful, almost like his prayers are answered with the two-word syllable.
“Fuck,” I curse beneath my breath. My time is up. It’s go-time, or I’m going to be caught for sure. And wouldn’t that be hard to explain. Besides that, I think it’s time I take a shower of my own.
4. Rhodes
Isensed her presence.
I heard her.
I smelt her scent lingering in my bedroom—cherry and vanilla.
And when I walk out of my room, heading down the hallway, the door to her bedroom does a fuck of a lot of nothing to muffle the sounds coming from the other side.
My hand presses against the wood as I breathe in deeply to hold myself back. I only leave once I hear her moan my name as she orgasms.
My smile comes easily. Fuck yeah, Kyra more than feels what we do to one another. The only shit part is waiting. Two more weeks of keeping my hands to myself will be near impossible. Once I’m released from the doctor, I’ll have Kyra in my bed in every way imaginable.
5. Kyra
Two Weeks Later
Ithrow myself on the bed in the spare room of Rhodes' beach house, my phone at my ear while I’m waiting for my best friend to answer the phone. I need to vent about the way Rhodes has my hormones in literal overdrive. I’m beginning to think it’s all in my head, minus the fact I’ve seen the heated looks he sends my way when he thinks I’m not looking.
“Hola!” Lauren, better known as Lo, answers on the third ring. Her voice is chipper, more so than normal. Things must be going well with her live-in boyfriend. Gag me with a stick. He’s truly a user, and I personally can’t stand the way he treats her like his human ATM machine. I pretend to like him because I refuse to let a man get in between our friendship. One day, she’ll realize that she’s not his personal bank or maid, and when that happens, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.
“Hey, Lo.” My tone is less than happy, more or less resigned. Probably because of the perpetual state of horniness I’ve been in. Great, now I feel like I’m a teenage boy. I’m twenty-two, have a career and a somewhat good head on my shoulders. Sure, I make mistakes. Who doesn’t? But for the most part, I feel like I’m a good person. No, I am a good person. Positive affirmations and all those self-help books I’m constantly reading would slap my hand if I didn't respect myself.