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“Hi, handsome boy.” I glance around, noting the light on in the hallway. “Has Bryce been keeping you company while I’ve been gone?”
Edward drags his tongue along my cheek.
“Come on. That bathtub is calling my name.”
I walk into the hallway, and the whir of the fan sounds from behind the bathroom door. Excitement courses through me when I think about telling Bryce about my day. As I continue to my room, his muffled voice halts my feet.
Is he calling me?
Edward’s ears perk up. I turn around, and press my ear to the door. The sound comes again, but I can’t make out what he’s saying over the fan.
“Bryce? Are you okay?”
He doesn’t respond.
Maybe he’s singing.
Or maybe he fell, and needs help.
I crack open the door, and duck my head as I step inside. The steam makes it hard to see, but I can make out his tall stature behind the glass shower doors. He doesn’t appear to be hurt, and he isn’t on the floor. I creep backward, about to slip out unnoticed.
And then a long, guttural moan echoes off the tile.
Oh, my God. Is he ...?
Another grunt answers my question.
I should leave. I shouldn’t be invading his private moment. But my feet are cemented to the ground, and my eyes are squinting through the steam. One of his hands presses against the wall, and his other hand is wrapped around himself, while his hips thrust in a rhythmic motion. His raspy satisfaction is the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard. I’ve never found a man getting himself off to be attractive—quite the opposite, actually—but as I stand here, goosebumps fly across my skin, and a deep ache builds between my thighs.
I wish I knew what he was imagining.
Wish I had a clear view.
Wish I could watch the water run down his olive skin.
Wish I could see the euphoric expression on his face when he comes.
Wish I could see the size of his—
Bad, Charly! This is bad! Get out!
I force myself to move toward the door, careful not to knock into anything and alert Bryce of my presence. Once I’m safe, I bolt down the hallway, and lock myself and Edward behind my bedroom door. My pulse pumps liquid heat through my veins, and I slap my palm against my forehead.
Edward whines, and drops down at my feet.
“Don’t judge me, dog.”
Charly
“Oh, God. What if this is where he kills you? What if he takes you out in the middle of a lake and dumps your body?”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve gotta take a break from watching those murder documentaries, Jenny. It’s messing with your brain.”
“It’s my job to look out for you. If he kills you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“If he kills me, I won’t be able to say anything.”
“That’s beside the point.”
