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His back is rippled with muscles; his chest is broad, and even from my sideways position in the doorway, I can see the well-defined six-pack beneath the taut skin.

My gaze skims over his broad biceps and lingers on the tattoo on the back of his neck. It looks like a snake engrossed in a battle with a lion. It’s powerful and fascinating in a scary kind of way. As though he’s one or the other and fighting his demons that are about to come to life.

His back is sexy as hell, but I think the most beautiful part of him is his ass. It looks like it’s been carved out of marble.

Oh, wait.

My eyes widen and my jaw drops open as I realize what he’s doing.

His hand is on his dick. There is no denying it. You can see his hard-on, the veins on his shaft, the slow movement as his hand goes back and forth.

Oh. My. God.

He’s jerking off, his face drawn in concentration. The shock at the picture before me is short but intense.

But there’s more than shock.

A wave of heat travels down my abdomen and settles between my legs. I can feel myself vibrating down there, my lady parts clenching and unclenching with sudden want.

It’s not like I haven’t seen a dick before. It’s the mixture of it all—his dark hair, muscular body, and the fact that he seems to be enjoying himself way too much—that’s turning my insides into jelly, and I don’t like it one bit.

He must not have heard me because he neither turns his head, nor does he stop stroking himself.

“Jesus. Get a frigging room,” I call out, my voice a little too breathy.

His hand freezes in its movement. He turns around and shoots me an unfazed smile. “I’m taking care of basic needs here, if you don’t mind.”

His gaze meets mine, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes, a dark shade of blue, are hooded, giving me the kind of bedroom look that screams he’s not in the least ashamed to having been found jerking off by a complete stranger.

For a second, I think I see surprise on his face, but the fleeting impression is gone before I can fully grasp it.

His brows shoot up as his eyes pierce through me, shimmering with challenge. “Want join in, or why else are you still staring?”

Heat rushes to my face.

Jerk.

“Why would you think I’d—” My voice breaks as utter humiliation and blinding rage render me speechless.

I peer from his eyes to his cock. His hand is still wrapped around it. Instead of deflating, I think it’s just gotten even bigger, the veins pronounced, the crown glimmering with moisture.

The temperature’s just increased tenfold.

Either that, or a complete stranger has just made me lose it.

Peeling my gaze away from him, albeit unwillingly, I cover my eyes with my hand to block the image of his glorious cock. “Who says something like that to a stranger?”

His raucous laughter rings behind me as I slam the bathroom door shut and press my back against it, taking slow, labored breaths.

Okay, Sullivan.

This so did not happen.

“Jesus.” I rub my eyes hard, as though to wipe off the image of his naked body, but that’s not possible.

The harder I try, the clearer I can see his huge dick in his hand. Who has a dick like that? Thick, engorged, and oh, so wet.

The slick sound of his hand moving up and down rings in my ears. Was it as loud before? Or has he just resumed his action?