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Well, that was a lie.
She’d been all I could think about for the last few hours.
I’d gone to bail her out, even, but had found out from the booking officer that she’d been in jail for all of fifteen minutes before four women had come to bail her out—the wives of the men she’d walked in on today.
“Don’t just stand there. You’re letting all the stale, hot hallway air in,” she grumbled, giving me her back.
I went inside and shut the door. “They let you stay?”
She grumbled something under her breath but kept walking toward the shower area.
She stripped off her clothes, throwing everything on the floor in her haste to get into the shower.
My dick instantly responded.
Sadly, I didn’t try to join her.
She was very mad at me.
I didn’t blame her, really.
I’d have been mad, too, had the situation been reversed.
“Make yourself at home,” she grumbled as she stepped into the shower.
I watched her through the clear glass, my cock so hard that it hurt.
I leaned back on the couch, placed my hands behind my head, and watched the show.
And what a good one she put on.
She shaved her underarms. Her legs. Soaped up every inch of her body.
Cleaned her pussy very, very well—so well that I decided she was putting on a show for me.
She stood under the hot water, her back arched, nipples pebbled.
And she kept bending over in such a way that I knew she was making sure I had a good view of what she didn’t want me to have.
When she got out, she looked over, and narrowed her eyes.
“When I said make yourself at home, I meant go wash the dishes.” She curled her lip up at me.
I raised a brow at her words.
“You don’t have any dishes to wash,” I grumbled darkly. “You only have dirty paper plates all over the place.”
“Same thing,” Pepper snapped.
“What crawled up your ass?” I asked, knowing good and well what crawled up her ass.
“I’m bleeding from my vagina, my head is pounding from a full day of listening to privileged people bitch about their hotel room. I was fired. Made homeless. Arrested. Let out on bail. Rehired and gifted my home back. And you showed up at my door.” She ticked off her fingers one by one. “Do you have any more questions on what crawled up my ass?”
I stood up, stalking toward her.
“What are you doing?” she asked warily.
I kept walking, then stood in front of her and started to strip.
