16. Aspen
ASPEN
Later that day, I decide I’m in need of a full girl shower. My hair needs washing, and my legs—and other parts of me—have grown spiky.
It’s only after I’ve stripped that I realize I left my razor in Tobias’s bathroom. Shit. I hate being stubbly, and it’s not like I can just pop out to the store. Blake might have a spare one in his bathroom.
I grab a towel and wrap it around me. It’s thick and huge, so I’m fully covered, except for my shoulders and shins.
Hurrying down the corridor, I pass through a strange cold spot, like a pocket of ice in the air. I find myself glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see something. It’s the way the cold spot seemed so sudden and defined. God, this place is creepy. I’m starting to regret wearing only a towel.
I reach Blake’s bedroom—the one door that doesn’t have a number on it—and give the wood a sharp rap with my knuckles. I realize I don’t yet know which one is Levi’s room. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. The less I know, the easier it is to pretend it’s only me and Blake here.
No one answers, and I knock again.
“Blake?” I call.
No reply comes, and I press my cheek to the door, trying to get a sense of whether someone is behind the wood.
He’s probably still working on the hotel—it seems to be how he spends most of his time.
This place is clearly his passion, but doesn’t he need something else in his life? It seems like a lonely existence.
I clutch the towel between my breasts and try the door handle, though I’m not expecting it to be locked.
Sure enough, the door swings open. My heart is beating too hard, and I feel strange entering his personal space.
I inhale, taking in the essence of Blake—not the scent of aftershave, but soap and wood and sheer masculinity.
There’s his bed, the sheets gray and silky.
Clearly a man’s bed. I have to resist the urge to climb beneath the sheets and wrap myself in him.
I think I’d sleep better than anywhere else if I did.
But Blake might not be so keen on finding his ex-best friend’s daughter in his bed.
Tearing my gaze away from where he sleeps, I hurry over and yank open the bathroom door.
“Shit!”
The space is full of steam and Blake is standing at the sink, in front of the mirror. His hair is wet and his skin damp. Like me, he’s wearing only a towel, but his is around his waist. Water droplets glisten on his skin.
My mouth runs dry as I drink in the solid form of his naked, tattooed torso. A spattering of hair across his chest has been darkened by the water, and it runs in a line between his abs and then lower, vanishing beneath his towel.
Dear God. He looks like a real man. His body is thick and muscular from all the physical work he does. His long hair is still wet and trails down his spine.
“Something I can do for you, Pen?” He arches an eyebrow questioningly.
“Oh, shit, sorry. Fuck.”
I yank the door shut.
He doesn’t even give me enough time to turn and run before he opens the door again to find me still standing there.
“I assume you’re here because you need something, not just because you wanted a tour of my bathroom.”
I gulp. “Umm… yeah… I need a razor. I’m sorry. I left mine behind.”
“No worries. I have a spare disposable one.”
He turns away from me, and my gaze lands on the muscles of his back.
Fucking hell, he’s incredible. But he’s shown zero reaction to the fact I’m in only my towel as well.
Whatever impact he has on me clearly doesn’t work the other way around.
I hate that it disappoints me, but he’s a decent man.
He knows he shouldn’t be perving over his ex-friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter.
He turns back to me holding a brand-new razor with the plastic cover over the head and hands it to me. “Here you go.”
I take hold of the covered blade, but he doesn’t let go. A slight smile touches his lips. I suddenly feel completely exposed.
My gaze flicks from his face and down his chest, to the white towel around his waist.
A shape is outlined beneath the material.
Is that a semi? I swear his cock must sense my gaze on it, as it twitches beneath the towel.
I must be losing it because crazy, wild thoughts assail me.
I want to taste him, to yank the towel away and drop to my knees in front of him.
I picture myself wrapping my fingers around the base of his thick cock, holding him steady as I part my lips to take his head into my mouth.
He would be shocked and try to push me away, but I'd swirl my tongue around the tip, tasting his precum, masturbating him to encourage him to leak more for my eager mouth. I’d suck him deep, holding his gaze on mine.
Blake releases the razor.
“Aspen. Are you all right?”
Oh, shit. I've just been standing here, staring at him pretty much naked, while fantasizing about being on my knees and sucking him off. He must think I'm completely mad.
My cheeks flare hot, and I’m sure he must have noticed my mortification, which only makes things worse.
I wave the razor in his direction. “Thanks for this. At least I can shave now. I hate being spiky—on my legs,” I add hurriedly.
I don’t want him to think of whatever other part of my body I might be shaving. It feels like we’re on very shaky territory. I’ve gone from wishing he looked at me like this to understanding just how dangerous it might be.
“I’ll let you…” I mumble, and gesture helplessly toward him.
Then I spin on my bare toes and race from the room, pulling the bedroom door shut behind me. Christ, we should really start locking some doors in this place.
But the image of Blake in a small towel won’t leave my mind.
He’s a big man, and from the shape I got a hint of behind the material, that part of him is big, too. Thick and long. Way bigger than I’ve come across before. I imagine straddling him, the head pressing against my pussy, seeking entrance.
Would it even fit?
I reach my room, and slam the door shut. With my back to the door, I cover my face with one hand and let out a groan. If Blake gets even a hint at the idea that I’m having these kinds of thoughts about him, he’s bound to send me packing.