Page 98 of So This Is War
My stomach churns at the thought of him being with any other woman than me. And I know that’s ridiculous, I know. I have no claim over him, but still, I don’t like the thought of someone else being with him when I’m carrying this crush heavy on my chest. And sure, I know I pack him condoms and tease him about hooking up when he’s out of town, but I do that so when he does pull out a condom, he thinks of me.
Slightly manipulative, perhaps, but let’s remember who the master manipulator is . . . him. Need I remind you of the bagel runs?
Needing to find out if he’s with someone else, I move in closer to his bedroom, my breath held as I lean toward his door to listen intently.
I don’t hear him.
I just hear a woman.
A woman telling him what to do . . .
And then it clicks.
Holy shit, he’s watching a Patty Ford video.
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back my pure joy from the thought of him fondling himself on the other side of this door. My body heats up, a dull throb pulses between my legs, and my mouth goes dry. It’s so incredibly hot that he’s touching himself.
So freaking hot that I lean more toward the door . . . aching to hear him.
I want to hear him groan.
I want to hear his hand moving over his cock.
Hell, I want to see the way he stares at the phone intently, listening to everything Patty Ford has to say.
The urge to see him grows strong, and for an instant, the thought of walking in on him flashes through my mind.
What would he do?
Would he scramble to hide himself?
Would he just look up at me while he strokes himself?
Would he ask me to join in?
My pulse pounds heavily in my ears as questions creep up my spine.
What would happen if I actually walked in? I could pass it off as ignorance. I could apologize profusely. I could lean into him, pressing my hard nipples against his arm while showing him my favorite videos of hers.
Oh God, that last thought, that last idea. Yes, I want that. I want to be on his bed, with him naked, enticing him. Telling him how I like to masturbate when I watch her videos.
I want him to know.
I want him to break out in a sweat.
I want him thinking of me when he watches her.
And before I can stop myself, before I can convince myself this might not be the best decision, I push down the door handle and walk in.
Immediately my eyes land on Levi, who is propped up on his bed, his back to the headboard, his dick covered by his blankets, but his hand slowly working under the sheets. His other hand holds the phone as he stares down at it intently.
So.
Fucking.
Hot.
Bare up top, his chest muscles flex as his teeth pull on the corner of his lip. His bicep flexes with every stroke as the sinew in his forearm fires off with every motion up and down his length.
