Page 57 of The Wrong Groom

I take my cock in my hand and give it a slow stroke. Maybe if I just let myself indulge these thoughts once, it’ll be easier to lie next to her tonight without losing my mind. Maybe the only reason I want her this badly is because I’ve told myself I can’t have her.

I brace a hand against the tile and start to stroke myself in earnest, dragging my fist up and down my cock. The water is near scalding by now, and steam fogs the glass, but it’s nothing next to the images burning through my head.

I let my eyes fall shut, and there she is, so fucking vivid in my imagination. In my head, Alexis kneels in front of me, her lower lip caught between her teeth, looking up with those stunning blue eyes. The imagined version of her leans in, her breath ghosting over my sensitive skin.

“Let me help you,” she whispers. “You’re my husband now. I want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck,” I choke out on a ragged breath.

My hand speeds up as I picture her lips parting, picture the head of my cock resting against them, imagine what it would feel like to have her tongue sliding over the underside of my shaft. My jaw is locked tight, my free hand braced on the tile as I groan softly, doing my best to keep the sound muffled. The rest of the world falls away, and I’m barely aware of anything but the growing pleasure. There’s nothing but the phantom feel of her perfect mouth and the heat building at the base of my spine.

“Alexis…” Her name slips out on a moan before I can catch it, my chest heaving as I fight for breath.

I’m right at the edge, my fist moving fast, when the door creaks open.

“Gabriel?”

Chapter 18

Alexis

I stop dead in my tracks, my hand still on the knob of the bathroom door.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say my name, so I⁠—”

The words die in my throat as I take in the water streaming over Gabriel’s broad shoulders and down the muscled length of his back.

The sight of him through the glass shower wall steals whatever I was about to say. I’ve never seen anyone built like this, and for a second, I forget how to breathe—partly because I’ve walked in on him naked and partly because I can’t make myself look away. He’s facing away from me with one hand braced against the wall, unmoving except for his shoulders, which rise and fall fast.

I bite my lip as my stomach flutters. Did I imagine it? I swear I heard him say my name, but obviously I must’ve been mistaken.

Still, I was so certain I’d heard it. My first thought was that he’d forgotten something or needed a fresh towel. But if that was the case, he’d go ahead and ask me for whatever favor he needed now that I’m here, wouldn’t he?

“Are you… okay?” I whisper, my heart hammering even though I’m not quite sure why.

He huffs a wry laugh, water droplets skating down his neck as he shakes his head. He won’t turn around, though, won’t even glance over his shoulder to find my eyes. My pulse picks up and my mouth goes dry as I realize that one of his hands is splayed against the tile wall, and the other seems to be…

My mouth drops open on a gasp as the butterflies in my stomach go wild. “Were…” I swallow. “Were you…?”

As if he’s realized there’s no point trying to deny what’s become obvious to me now, Gabriel finally turns to face me, moving so slowly it’s almost unbearable. Water runs down his chest as he does, and my gaze follows it without permission, tracing the path it cuts across his abs before it disappears into the hair at the base of his cock. His very thick, very hard cock, currently half hidden by his large hand wrapped around it.

My face goes up in flames, and within seconds my whole body feels like it’s burning from the inside. Somewhere in the back of my head. a voice is screaming at me to turn around and leave, but no matter how loud it gets, I can’t make my feet listen.

Because I’m starting to feel a lot more sure that I didn’t imagine him groaning my name, and now I know what he was doing when he said it.

The room tilts at the realization, and for a second, I think I might actually faint as his steel gray eyes hold mine.

What is he thinking right now?

Gabriel is impossible to read at the best of times, but in the echoing silence of the bathroom, it almost feels like he’s daring me to do something, to move or speak. I just can’t tell whether he wants me to keep looking or to turn away.

And the truth is, I don’t know which I want either. Part of me is terrified, while another part of me is far too caught up in the idea that he stood in here thinking about me while he touched himself.

I’ve read more romance novels than I can count, and this could have been lifted straight off one of their pages. The sight of my husband like this is so filthy and arousing that it almost feels like it can’t be real. I almost try to tell myself that’s all this is—my mind playing tricks, conjuring some fantasy where a man as accomplished and devastatingly handsome as Gabriel would actually want someone like me. For all I know, he could have been picturing his secretary in here or something. I’ve seen her, and she’s very pretty.

But it was my name on his lips, not hers.

My fingers shift slightly on the door knob, but other than that, neither of us moves. It feels like we’ve been standing here for minutes instead of the few seconds it’s probably actually been, suspended in this moment as if time itself has stopped.