Chapter Six #2
“Not happening.” His gaze is unwavering.
“I’m a horrible traveler. You’ll regret this.”
His sharp bark of a laugh makes Gremlin’s ears prick. “Somehow I seriously doubt that.” Nodding at my suitcase, he adds, “You can pack or I will. The event Saturday night is a costume thing—horror, of course.”
I gape at him. “You seriously expect me to pull a costume out of my ass?”
“Your ass is capable of great things,” he says mildly.
I roll my eyes. “What are you going as?”
He smirks. “Myself.”
“Ah, a dick.” I move to the dresser, hip checking him away from it to yank a drawer open. “Should have guessed.”
“Yep. Massive one.”
I ignore him. Caine looks into the open drawer. I follow his gaze, displeased to find the drawer I opened is my underwear drawer. He runs his fingertips across the assortment of fabrics. “This is a very nice collection.”
“That is the creepiest thing you’ve ever said.” Snatching a handful, I chuck them into my suitcase, making a mental note to count how many there are once I’ve banished Caine. I start pushing the drawer shut, and he reluctantly removes his hand. “What are you going as, though, really?”
“Just wearing a Scream mask. You don’t actually have to dress up unless you want to.”
Instantly, my mind runs to thrilling places. The room feels a few degrees too warm, the lack of airflow thick and oppressive.
Down, girl.
“Did you say what the costume thing is for?” I focus on selecting the perfect pairs of socks, trying not to picture him in the mask.
He’s quiet so long I steal a glance at him. Hands in his pockets, he’s more solemn than I’m used to. When he catches me, he grins, but it isn’t his usual crooked, soul-snatching smile that makes his eyes crinkle. It’s the faux-easy, too-casual one that makes his jaw tick.
“Have you heard of Love I need to shower anyway.
I head back to my room. Gremlin’s still in the suitcase, sprawled and snoozing without a care in the world.
Opening the bathroom door, I freeze with one foot on the threshold.
Across the large, recently remodeled bathroom, beneath the near-silent waterfall showerhead, is Caine.
The light above the shower is the only one turned on, a spotlight shining down on his wet, tattooed body.
I swallow so loud Gremlin probably hears it.
His eyes are closed, head tilted back as water cascades over his face.
One hand is braced against the shower wall, the other working.
Muscles in his forearm flex, the tattoos shifting and glistening.
I’m entranced. Basic boundaries are forgotten.
There’s only him. Slick, and wet, and hard.
I’m incapable of moving, eyes locked on him as he strokes his tattooed cock.
It’s thick, and the sight of his big hand wrapping around it is obscene and beautiful, and I’m holding my breath, though there’s no way he can hear me.
He’s fucking his fist too vigorously for me to make out the tattoo’s design, but it’s a vibrant purple-blue and runs the length of his shaft.
Did he have that before?
I don’t remember a tattoo, but it was dark, and that was years ago.
Caine drives into his hand with ferocity that makes my stomach flip, the motions hard and almost violent. His hips jerk wildly, as if his body needs a better place to channel the brutality radiating from his every movement.
Me.
Channel it into me.
There’s a chance the pull I feel toward Caine right now could be compounded by the stress of the last twelve hours, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s something else, something that’s been inside me, waiting for a chance to escape. Or maybe waiting to meet its match.
His rhythm changes, the movements shorter, rougher, palming his tip at the peak of each stroke. Exhales become more ragged, chest shifting as the muscles in his stomach tighten. He groans, “Fuuuuck,” the sound barely audible over the water.
The uninhibited exclamation squirms its way inside me, has my thighs clenching together despite myself. Still, the sound jars me out of my stupor.
What am I doing?
BOUNDARIES.
Easing back out the door, I steal one last peek. Amused eyes look back at me, the Cheshire cat grin on Caine’s face sending a different kind of heat through me.
Oh, shit.