Page 28 of Elf-ish

Angelica nods like a bobblehead and skips into the bathroom while I cross the space to the bed and toss myself on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

It’s going to be a long day.

+ + +

Thankfully, Walt wasn’t up for more conversation than idle chit-chat, which I hate almost as much as a profit and loss discussion. However, the short conversation allows me to get back to my hotel room sooner than I expected.

As I enter the room, I hear the shower running, the door cracked open to allow the steam to filter out into the main room.

The deep tenor of a male voice echoes against the tile wall.

“You like that, baby girl? You like me touching you there? You want my cock inside you?”

What the fuck?

I press at the bathroom door, allowing me a full view of the small room, where Angelica stands alone in the glass-enclosed shower. A quick assessment of the room confirms she’s the only one present, and my gaze lands on her phone, screen face up, volume maxed.

“That’s it, take it like you want it,” the male voice encourages.

My attention flips back toward Angelica. Is she listening to porn? But as additional words filter through my head, I realize the narration is an audiobook. A very steamy one.

The continuation of the story is lost to me as I watch Angelica. Her hand on the tile wall. A washcloth between her thighs with her other hand. Her head tipped forward.

Sweet Santa, I’m permanently going to be on the bad boy list.

Because for another half a second, I’m frozen as I watch her arm move, imagining the rhythmic circles she’s making where she’s most sensitive.

Everything in me wants to strip out of my clothes and step into that shower with her. Be that washcloth giving her pleasure.

Instead, I take a giant step back, leaving the door suddenly wide open, confident she hasn’t noticed me. Pressing my back to the short hallway wall at the edge of the door frame, I tip back my head and listen as the male voice continues his narration and Angelica adds her own response.

“Yes,” she mutters as the voice-actor asks more heated questions, followed by a description of what he’s doing to the female character, filling in the space between the dialogue.

“Yes, Jude, yes,” Angelica’s voice rises, and I make a fist, bringing it to my mouth and digging my teeth into my knuckles.

What the fuck? And I mean that in the most eloquent what the fuck is happening way? My name on her tongue in that breathy plea compares to finding gold coins in my stocking.

I’m so tempted to pop the button on my pants and work myself within them, but this is Angelica’s moment, and I’m a fucking auditory voyeur.

“Jude,” she hums.

My dick leaps, as if he heard her call out my name, begging for me.

What does she want from me? This moment is nothing more than pure lust and longing, right?

As a final gasp leaves Angelica’s mouth, silence follows a beat. Even her phone has gone quiet, and I hold my breath.

I glance at the hotel door and peek over my shoulder at the open space leading into the bathroom.

I need to get out of here. Need to act like I never heard her call out my name while she touched herself, but I’m trapped.

I don’t think I can reach the bathroom door and restore it to its original position without Angelica noticing me. And I don’t think I can make it through the room door . . . without her noticing me.

As the shower shuts off, I race for the middle of the bedroom, noting Angelica has picked up the blankets I slept on, folded them, and neatly stacked them on the boudoir chair. I swipe my phone from my pocket, hold it up to my ear, and stare at the slightly open curtain.

Speaking louder than necessary, I say, “Okay, great. Yep. I’ll get right on her . . . I mean, it.”

Idiot. I close my eyes and give a quick glance over my shoulder.