Page 68 of Under Pressure

“Oh—Oh my God.”

I whip my head toward the panted, surprised voice. Through the steamy glass door, I see her standing in the bathroom, her shoulders moving like she’s desperate to catch her breath. My moan is instant, and I have to squeeze myself to the point of pain to keep from coming on the spot. I suck my teeth and grit my jaw, trying to push the sensation away.

Fuck me. She’s so beautiful.

Her eyes are so wide, surprise and something else making them appear more grey than blue. I throb in my tight grip when her throat bobs and those bee-stung lips press together, a bit wobbly. The water continues to beat down on my chest, heat filling the bathroom until it rivals a sauna. I don’t give myself a chance to change my mind about my next move.

Turning around, I press my back to the shower wall and hiss at the cold tiles against my searing skin. The move exposes my body completely, including where I’m now stroking myself again. Slow, so fucking slow it feels like torture, but I know if I go any faster, I’m going to spray all over myself.

I wipe my hand down the glass door so we can both see each other more clearly, and her gaze goes glassy. They don’t stay fixed in one spot but begin to wander. At first, she’s cautious, maybe too surprised by what she’s just stormed in on to realize what’s happened. It doesn’t last long.

My biceps flex when she looks at them, inspecting the muscles I’ve worked really fucking hard on. They coil and bunch beneath her eyes until she moves on. She spends a long, longtime on my abs. All my skin is red from the heat of the water, yet it seems to grow a deeper shade of it as she examines me.

I’m a big guy. Maybe too big for my position on the Havoc. Yet I haven’t stopped working out with the hope of shrinking. I like towering over most of my teammates, and I enjoy lifting the most weight in the gym. Yet, those accomplishments suddenly mean nothing. They don’t come close to the satisfaction I feel when she releases a soft, needy little noise and pinches the hem of her shirt, pulling on it as she stares at my stomach and the V that leads to where I’m still boldly touching myself.

Finally, her eyes drop to watch.

The tips of her ears are blazing with a blush, but so is the rest of her. If she’s still angry with me, I can’t tell. I almost want her to be, though.

“You can watch, Quinny. I’m not shy.”

Her brows draw together, and she starts rolling the fabric of her shirt between her fingers. I have to swipe at the shower door again, annoyed when the steam starts to hide her from me again. The moment is too sacred to miss a second of. I want to remember this for the rest of my life. To revel in the way she’s looking at me like I’m the sexiest man alive. Like all I am is hers, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to continue fighting the connection we have.

“I knew you’d come running over here, baby . . . so fucking mad at me. Yeah, exactly like that. With that fire in your eyes . . .” I trail off, vision blurring as she glares, finding herself again. “You look like you need to yell.”

Her voice is cracked, exposing more of her than I’ve ever seen before. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

My fist is moving faster now, the sight of her like this undoing me. I have to lean against the side of the shower to avoid falling to my knees on the hard tile. I’m saving that for later.

She yanks her stare from my fist. “You didn’t tell the truth.”

“Guilty,” I pant, spreading my legs a bit to stabilize my balance.

Her eyes fall again to my cock again, lashes fluttering. “Are you really going to . . . You’re not going to stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Say no. Please.

“You look close.”

My eyes roll back into my head as I jerk my head in a nod. “Yeah, baby. I am.”

“If I asked you to stop, would you?” she asks, testing me.

“Yes.” I hiss the word. “But I’d try begging you not to make me.”

She bundles her hair up off her neck and drapes it over her shoulder, letting it cascade down her chest. My free hand forms a fist as I imagine wrapping it around my knuckles and hauling her into the shower with me.

“I don’t believe you’d beg.”

My laugh is almost all growl. “Try me.”

“Stop.”

The command jolts through me. My dick seems to grow stiffer, approving of her bossiness. I swallow my frustration and reluctantly still my movements. My balls turn to stone as I search her face for any sign of distress or regret. The only thing I find is pure, wicked desire.