Chapter 30
EVANGELINE
Ipulled an Irish exit on the Even Better Eleven, only saying a proper goodbye to Shelby. Luckily, Kenj challenged Saint to an arm-wrestling rematch and the whole group was distracted, so it was easy to sneak out.
I didn’t allow myself to look at Alaric’s second message until I was in the elevator, already on my way to him.
Good thing.
The man sent me a shirtless mirror selfie, his torso glistening with sweat. The text read:
I miss you, too. Blew off some steam in the gym. Heading to bed soon.
I nearly dropped my phone while gawking at the image.
Sure, he was shirtless last night, and I definitely studied him this morning before he left for work, but my god, his body is a sight to behold.
His shoulders are chiseled to perfection with little bonus muscles I’ve never seen on an actual human before. His abs are sharply defined and supremely lickable. The way his waist narrows has me zooming in over and over again.
My room is dark and quiet when I let myself in. Frantic and anxious, I scan the empty space and flick on the overhead light, considering my next move.
Do I respond to his text? Do I change? Do I skip out into the hallway and knock on his door?
I shake my head, forcing my mind to slow down. We have connecting doors. That’s where I’ll start.
I drift to that side of the room and unlatch the dead bolt on my end, then turn the handle and pull open the door.
What I find is something I’m not prepared for. I was ready to knock, but Alaric’s door cracked open.
Excitement zaps through me.
The only reason he’d leave the door ajar is if he wanted me to come in, right?
I dart across the room to confirm that the hallway door is closed and locked. Then I scurry over to my bag, dig around to find my favorite lip gloss, and reapply it.
My body is buzzing with nerves as I circle back to our connected doors.
Afraid I’ll chicken out if I give myself time to overthink it, I quickly step into his room.
“Alaric?”
I’m met with silence.
“Are you here? It’s me. Evangeline.” I cringe at myself. Seriously, Evan? As if anyone else might waltz into his hotel room this late at night.
Speaking of…
Detouring to his main door, I ensure it’s locked and dead bolted as well.
I doubt anyone else has access, but the extra assurance quells some of my nerves.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I stroll through the space.
His suite is a mirror image of mine. He also has a luxe kitchen and a nice living area. Why the hell did I end up in the same room category as the team principal?
When I don’t find him in any of the main living spaces, I wander to his bedroom. I discover it empty as well, and my heart sinks. But then I notice the triangle of light and follow it to the bathroom door, which is open a couple of inches.
“Alaric?” I call out again as I enter the space.
The shower is on, steam filling the air.
Alaric’s in the shower. Naked. A thrill courses through me.
Shamelessly, I tiptoe closer. While I haven’t received a straight-forward invitation, he did send me that sweaty thirst trap. And he left his door cracked open, after all. If those clues were meant to show me that he wanted privacy, then I’m way off the mark.
“Alaric?” I round the corner, and the glass-enclosed marble shower comes into view.
And oh, what a view it is.
The man I can’t stop thinking about is standing in the middle of the shower, legs spread wide with his back to me.
His tan skin highlights the defined planes of his bare back, though the steam on the door prevents me from seeing his ass.
He’s totally stripped down, powerful and domineering even without an audience.
“Alaric,” I repeat, worried I’ll startle him.
He turns his head and drinks me in over his shoulder. When our eyes meet through the condensation, my knees wobble. His expression is intense. Heated. Borderline predatory.
Turning completely, he steps forward and places his palm on the glass between us.
Drawn to him the way I always am, I drift forward.
Licking my lips, focus still fixed on his face, I align my hand with his and press it to the clear surface between us.
“You’re here,” he says, his words echoing off the tile walls of the cavernous bathroom.
I inhale deeply, filling my lungs, forcing myself to stay focused on his face. “I’ll wait for you out in the living room.”
Scowling, he gives a lethal, slow-motion shake of his head. “Stay right there where I can see you.” The words may be distorted because of the echo of the bathroom, but that doesn’t make them any less impactful. Or hot.
“Not fair,” I sass, taking a step back. “The glass is fogged up. I can barely see anything.”
A wicked smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
The look sends giddiness careening through me. I’ve experienced this man in caretaker mode and professional leader mode. He is good at his core. But like this? Naked, needy, and unmasked for me? This is a version of Alaric I can’t wait to acquaint myself with, intimately and thoroughly.
Without breaking eye contact, he lays his forearm on the door and makes a sweeping motion.
My heart thunders in my ears.
Holy. Shit.
With the condensation cleared, his full frame comes into focus.
His thighs are thick and dusted with dark hair, perfectly framing his impressive length. The man is hard and hung.
He grips himself with one big hand, and still, it only covers about half the shaft.
My pussy flutters as my imagination runs wild.
His size alone is enough to make my mouth water. I want to feel him. I can’t wait to taste him.
“My eyes are up here, angel.”
Busted.
Grinning, I meet his gaze, pouring all my admiration into our connection.
I want him, plain and simple.
“I’m nearly done,” he says casually.
My mind takes off again, my attention drifting lower. As he gives his cock a slow stroke, I can’t help but track the movement. I can’t be certain through the glass and steam, but from here, it looks as though a little pearl has gathered at his tip.
“Looks to me like you’re just getting started.” Heat washes over me.
He smirks, eyes crinkling. “Why are you here?” he asks, his tone low and grave. “You told me you had plans—”
“I did,” I cut in. “But after I got there, I saw your text and came right back to the hotel.”
“Why?” he presses, still choking his length as we casually carry on a conversation through the glass.
Why?
Isn’t it obvious?
“I want to be with you.” My words are honest and raw—a confession I’ve been terrified to speak into existence. Because if the sentiment isn’t requited, or if he’s changed his mind about us—
“Good answer, angel.”
My heart rate picks up in response to his praise.
“You’re staying the night,” he informs me, his tone still deadly serious.
I can’t help but sass back at that. “So we can just sleep again?”
With a chortle, he steps closer to the door.
Like this, we’re no more than two feet apart, the tile shower floor making him an extra inch or two taller than normal.
I crane back to maintain eye contact. He’s got me right where he wants me now.
“Fuck just sleeping. I’ve had a shit day. I had to wax poetic and stay positive all fucking afternoon, acting like that race wasn’t a total disaster.”
I stay quiet, offering him a safe place to vent. I can be that for him. Lord knows he’s been that for me on multiple occasions.
With a despondent shake of his head, he refocuses on me through the glass. “I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I don’t want to just sleep. I need something real.”
The last line is delivered as a hopeful plea.
Groaning, he rests his forehead on the glass between us. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, angel. Please tell me you’ll stay the night.”
“Yes,” I breathe, my heart rate through the roof, my nerves firing off and anticipation tingling in every limb.
The space between us is too much. I’m desperate to be closer. To soothe him. To give him what he wants. To give in to what we both need.
Beyond eager, I consider joining him under the spray, clothes and all. But before I can reach for the handle of the shower door, he steps back, giving me an incredible view of his full form once more.
He tugs himself harder and faster now. “I won’t last more than a minute at this rate,” he says, his chest heaving.
More precum has gathered on his tip, the sight causing me to involuntarily lick my lips.
“Lay down a towel and get on your knees, Evangeline,” he says, a strained scowl marring his beautiful face. “I want to show you how deeply you affect me before I make a mess out of that perfect pussy.”