Page 37 of Chasing the Sun

But this was different.

Unabashed need danced with something dark and unnamed. The image of Ellie sprawled in front of me, on display forme.I groaned at the thought of her hot, wet cunt waiting for me to stretch her open. My cock protested, hating my hand but needing it all the same. I didn’t allow myself to touch her, not even in my mind.

Instead, I continued stroking my cock to the image of Elodie, just out of reach. Teasing me. Acute awareness prickled at something in my brain, heightening my already honed senses. The mental imagery was working, because suddenly I couldfeelher in the room, pliant and curious. I could practically smell her spicy vanilla perfume mixing with the steam of the shower. It only fueled the fantasy, bringing it to life as I hurtled closer to the edge.

Tension curled in my lower back as I jutted my hips forward, fucking my hand and imagining what it might be like to paint those perfect tits with my cum.

She would like it, reveling in how undone she made me. I groaned as I tugged. As far as angry jerk-off sessions went, this one wasunrivaled.

Pathetic.

My fantasy should have been enough—I had hoped to be left sated, empty, and free of her—but it wasn’t.

The water pounded against my skin, but it didn’t rinse her from my thoughts. I braced a forearm against the tile, hanging my head as I pumped. Soon thick ropes of cum painted the shower wall as I envisioned it landing across her tits instead. Pointed nipples glistening with my release.

As I came my body jerked, and a single word slipped past my lips: “Elodie.”

TEN

ELODIE

I really meantto turn around.

Once I had realized that I accidentally walked into thewrongroom and someone was showering, I had swiveled on my heels to hustle the hell out of there.

Then a single word stopped me in my tracks.

Elodie.

My name, spoken in a choked groan that could only meanonething. One guttural, masculine moan that paralyzed me. One I had felt right down in the soles of my feet.

Heat sparked at the edges of my skin like the first lick of a wildfire.

I wasn’t supposed to hear that. I was definitelynotsupposed to feel it. A pulse of heat shot through me, sharp and insistent, pooling low in my belly like my body had rewired itself to respond to him.

No. Nothim. The situation. The sheer primal sound of it.

I could lie to myself and pretend like I thought the moan on the other side of the door meant he was injured,but I knew better. I knewexactlywhat was happening in that shower.

What I didn’t know was why it wasmyname on his lips.

In my defense, Ihadknocked and the door was already cracked when I pushed it the rest of the way open.

I had even called out, for fuck’s sake.

Breaths sawed in and out of me as I pressed my back to the wall next to his bathroom door. My nails dug into my palms as a low throb pulsed between my legs. Cal moaned again and I nearly screamed.

I would never be able to look Callum Blackwood in the eye again.

As I scanned the darkened suite, it was clear this was Cal’s living space. Masculine traces of him were evident—the king-size bed meticulously made with sharp, military-grade edges. Zero frills on the bedside table, only a lonely clock and a wristwatch. Across the room, his closet was open, his shirts and pants hung with painful organization.

I moved on instinct, legs carrying me forward before I even registered the motion. My pulse pounded in my throat, my breath short and uneven. I needed to get out of there—now, before?—

The shower squeaked as it turned off.

“Fuck,” I whispered, desperate with the need to escape. In the dark, I tiptoed across the suite, cursing the ancient floorboards that softly creaked underfoot.

When I made it to the door and slipped into the hallway, I let out a sigh of relief. Cracking the door just as it had been, I scurried down the hall, still clutching the whole reason I was lurking around the Drifted Spirit Inn in the firstplace.