Page 38 of You Make Me Feel
ZACH
I’m painfully hard as I make it back to my apartment. As I key in the code I send up a prayer to the god of hard-ons for the private entrance into the apartment. I’m not sure how I’d explain myself to Hudson’s executive reception staff.
Kicking off my shoes, I walk straight to the shower, throwing my shorts, athletic shirt, and socks on the cool marble tiles as I head into the oversize walk-in shower and switch it on until it’s steaming.
It should probably be cold. But I also shouldn’t chase beautiful redheads with a primal kink before most of the town’s even had their breakfast.
And I definitely shouldn’t make them come.
The steam fills the bathroom fast, curling around me as I brace my hands against the tile, water running down my back. Every breath I take brings her with it. Her scent, her voice, the sound she made when I caught her. The way herbody went from rigid to soft, like she’d finally stopped fighting what she’s wanted.
I shouldn’t have touched her. Should’ve walked away the second she looked at me with those pretty green eyes. But then she leaned back into me, trusting me. That blind, reckless trust that felt like a punch to the chest.
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the heat of her skin, the tremble in her breath. The way she melted, pliant and perfect, while my pulse hammered so hard I could barely think.
Groaning, I curl my fist around my cock, thinking of the way she felt when I slid my fingers against her. She was as wet as I was hard. I tighten my hand, thinking of her.God.
I shouldn’t do this. But I don’t think I can stop. My hand is stroking faster now. Harder. Remembering how her body looked under her crop top and shorts, how her stomach was pale and smooth and taut. How I sank my teeth into her neck and it took her pleasure to the next level.
“Fuck.” I reach the edge so quickly it takes me by surprise. Pleasure rises through me as I come, hard and fast against the tile. I see stars. Actual fucking stars.
And maybe that’s what scares me more than anything.
It takes me a moment to get my vision back. When I do, I look down at myself. At the water washing away the mess I made.
This has to stop. It shouldn’t have started. But I’m a greedy bastard who always wants what he shouldn’t have.
And apparently, what I want is a pretty redhead who came so hard on my fingers I’m not sure they’ll ever be the same again.
By the time I walk into the Salty Dog that evening, I’m back on an even keel. The place is buzzing, another sign the island’s waking up for late spring. I shoulder through a group of older guys arguing about baseball and head for the bar, the aroma of beer and fried shrimp assailing my senses.
Asher’s leaning on the counter, his hand wrapped around a beer like it’s been personally offending him. He called earlier, muttering about Francie being away on “a book thing”, and asked if I wanted to grab a beer. The man hates being alone. Or at least he hates being without his wife. Either way, the distraction suits me fine.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing the stool next to him. Maud, the barmaid who’s worked here since forever, walks over and I order a pint of beer. As she wanders off, Asher looks at me.
“Thanks for coming,” he says, taking a sip from his glass. “It’s good to catch up.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t mind being fifth choice.” I grin at him, because Hudson already told me Asher called him earlier. Apparently, he called Parker and West, too, desperate to find a drinking buddy.
Asher grunts, not even pretending to deny it. “Hudson said it’s his turn to get the kids to bed. Parker’s knee-deep in baby bath time. And West’s busy teaching his dog not to hump visitors.”
I raise a brow. “How’s that going for him?”
“About as well as you’d expect.” Asher takes a sip of his beer, lips twitching. “Eden says the dog’s just following West’s example.”
That makes me laugh, loud enough that Maud glances over. “Poor bastard. Guess he finally met his match.”
“He met more than that,” Asher mutters, shaking his head with mock disgust. “Our sister’s got him wrapped tighter than one of his tailored suits.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, lifting my pint. “Welcome to the Fitzgerald curse. None of you can say no to a strong woman.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “And you can?”
“Well, I’m not counting down the hours until I can have sex on camera with my wife, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “That’s a low blow. And if I find out who told everybody about that…” Asher shakes his head.
“Since we both know it was Francie gossiping to Autumn and Skyler, I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna do a damn thing about it. Because you’re whipped.”
