Page 23

Seriously, stop talking.

He smirks and gestures for me to follow him. Before I do, I take off my heels, hook them on my fingertips, and follow him up a spiral metal staircase to what I presume is his bedroom. The industrial theme continues in his bedroom, with dark furniture and a large bed, and the same amazing view fills the wall of windows.

“You can sleep that side.” He points to the side of the bed that’s closest to the window and I’m thankful because that’s the side I like to sleep on. He steps behind me and his hot breath dances across my neck. “But for the record, I’m always the big spoon.” A small gasp escapes my lips, my heart racing at the idea of cuddling in bed with Brad.

“Let me find you something to wear,” he says, turning to walk through a door that I assume is his closet. He’s gone for a moment, just enough time for me to catch my breath, and he returns holding a black t-shirt.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from his outstretched hand.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first? My guest bathroom hasn’t been set up yet.”

“No, I can wait. You go first. I’m going to text Luna. Let her know the road is closed.”

He nods and disappears to the bathroom.

I let out a long breath and flop down on the bed, staring up at the exposed brickwork and the dark wooden beams that run along the ceiling, telling myself to get it together. This is no big deal. It's Brad, your friend Brad. Your hot, older, tattooed,carved from stone friend, and you are going to share a bed with him.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom and I take that as my sign to get changed. I unzip my leather pants, sliding them down my legs and wince when cool air hits my bare ass.

You had to wear a thong tonight of all nights.

I fold the pants neatly and then whip my crop top over my head, covering my exposed breasts with one arm, just in case he appears. I don’t want to make this any weirder than it is. I put on the t-shirt, thankful it falls to my mid-thigh and my ass isn’t on full display. I take my phone out to text Ali that I won’t be back tonight, so she won’t worry.

I take a second to scan the room again, noting the dark bedding and the soft glow of the wall lights that illuminate the large room. Not only is it industrial, but there is something artistic about the space. A large painting hangs above his bed, all fine lines and brushwork in a mixture of grays and blacks. I couldn’t tell you what it is, but I could stare at it for hours. As my eyes travel the wall, they land on the bathroom door.

He didn’t close it.

The sound of the running water hitting the tile grows louder with every step I take. Before I know it, I am practically pressing my nose against the door and taking in the heavenly sight before me. Steam fogs up parts of the shower glass, but what I can make out.Holy shit.

The muscles on his tattooed back flex as his arm moves in rhythmic movements. A low groan echoes around the space. It only takes me a second to realize what he’s doing. A small gasp escapes me. A growing ache forms between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs together to suppress it. His movements quicken, the steam filling the glass, making it harder for me tosee. My own breathing quickens as my nipples harden against the fabric of his t-shirt.

What am I doing?I’m watching my friend ‘self-care’, as my friend Clara from dance school used to call it, in his shower like a creeper. But I can’t tear my eyes away. His groans get a little louder, and with it, my heart rate. It’s almost deafening, and the ache in my core gets heavier. I need some sort of release before I lose my mind.

He throws his head back and a deep growl erupts. I gasp at the sight, and it must be louder than I intend because his head whips round. Startled, I drop my phone, and it lands on my foot, ripping a cry from my lips. It must have bounced because I see the shimmer of the pink case under the chair. I bend down and crawl to reach it, the fabric of the t-shirt rising up my back, exposing my bare ass. When I look up, I’m greeted with a dripping wet Brad, a white towel wrapped around his glorious waist.

“Enjoy the show, Gabriella?” He looks amused.

Oh God, kill me now.

I spring to my feet, phone in hand, and I wave it at him. “No, I just dropped my phone,” I say, sounding more breathless than should be considered acceptable at this very moment.

“What were you doing with your phone near my bathroom door?” he asks, folding his large arms across his chest, the grin never leaving his lips.

I do my best to think on my feet. “I was trying to get cell reception to call Ali. She’s at home preparing for her work trip. She might be going to Europe, you know?”

“Is she?”

“Yeah, did you know some parts of Europe are like six hours ahead of New York?”

“I didn’t,” he replies.

“Yeah, well, it is, so I wanted to try and speak to her to get used to the time difference.” I realize I am making absolutely no sense here.

“Interesting,” he mumbles.

“I, erm, need to pee… on the toilet… in your bathroom… if that’s okay?”

Why, why am I so awkward around him? Oh, maybe it’s because you keep having thoughts of him naked and riding him, Gabby.