Page 73 of Top Shelf

I stare at the opposite wall, hands raised in the air like I’m being arrested.

“I just came into the bedroom to change out of my jeans,” I continue, because my mouth has decided the best solution is to keep blabbing. “Not because I was trying to see you—” I let out a maniacal laugh “—obviously not because of that. Although I did see that. A lot of that, actually. But I’m very respectful of bathroom privacy, usually.”

The water continues behind me.

“So I’m gonna leave now,” I say with a firm nod. “I’m leaving. Again, I support privacy. Big fan of it. Very pro. I—Jesus Christ, I’ll go. I’m going.”

“Heidi.”

His voice is rough enough to scrape down my spine.

I close my eyes. “I’m not looking.”

“I know.”

“Like, I saw, but I’m not currently looking.”

“I know.”

“I also didn’t see that much.”

There’s a small pause.

“Okay fine, I saw a lot.”

The shower door creaks open, and my breath goes absolutely fucking nowhere.

“Do you want to leave?”

I suck in oxygen quickly, because my pulse is everywhere. In my wrists, my throat, between my thighs. And I should say yes. It’s right there, a singular word that will let me walk back into the bedroom, peel off his jersey, put on my shorts, and spend the rest of my life pretending this night ended without me seeing Viktor stroking himself.

But because I've apparently had one too many pep talks from Lulu, I stay facing the wall.

“No.”

“Okay.” Water hits tile for another long second. “Then turn around.”

I turn.

Viktor hasn’t covered himself. He’s still standing under the water, his cock still hard and wet and bobbing against the dark hair at the base of him. His hand braces against the open glass door while his eyes move over me—my jeans, the leather jacket I never took off, and his jersey underneath it.

“Take off the jacket,” he says.

My mouth goes dry as I shrug it off slowly, letting it fall to the bathroom floor. His gaze follows it, then comes back to mine.

“Now the jeans,” he says next.

“You’re bossy.”

“Mm.” His voice rumbles through his chest, and I try to ignore what that would feel like if he did it against my skin.

I unbutton my jeans and feel the wetness building in my panties as his eyes stay on my hands. The denim catches at my hips, then my thighs. I take my time peeling them off, because he’s enjoying watching and I’m enjoying him watch me. I step out of one leg, then the other, leaving myself in his jersey with my black lace bra beneath it.

His jaw tightens as he zeroes in on my matching panties, a small frown between his brows.

“There’s my problem,” I say, kicking the jeans aside and nodding at his face. “You keep looking at me like you wanna eat me alive but you’re annoyed about it.”

Water runs down his chest and is hand flexes once against the door.