Page 49 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

I step into the shower. The water isn’t icy, thank goodness. Clearly, the hotel fixed whatever difficulties it must have had with its generator, or maybe the power in the neighborhood is restored.

The water is warm and wonderful, like the feel of Luke’s arms last night. My length jerks at the thought.

God, I’m so gone for him.

I shouldn’t be. I know that.

But I close my eyes all the same because I am a flawed individual, and I imagine the day starting differently. I imagine waking up to Luke’s hardness pressing against my ass, but this time, he wouldn’t be asleep. This time he would be awake, pressing against it, because he couldn’t help it, because he was fascinated by it.

I mean, I do have a nice ass.

I imagine him sliding my pajama pants down. Maybe he would spend time looking at it, feeling the shape with his large hands. I shudder, then brush my fingers against my cheeks. I shiver, and not from cold. I tremble, but with delight.

The thought shouldn’t be so arousing, but Luke is arousing.

That’s why Clark jumped at his application.

Millions of other people feel the same way as me. The thought makes something in my chest hurt, but I push it away. Instead, I grab hold of my length and will myself to not think about ridiculously handsome hockey players on the other side of this wall. I strive not to contemplate broad shoulders and a bright smile and a gentle, tenor voice.

I try to imagine another fantasy, and I scramble for my phone. I don’t normally watch porn in the shower, I don’t normally watch porn, period, but you could say this would be the professional thing to do. Because allowing myself to get off to fantasies of such a sweet, kind man feels wrong and icky and terrible.

I click rapidly on the porn site, clicking on a dark-haired twink who doesn’t look like Luke.

I focus on the image. The camera dips to the man’s cock, and I focus on it.

See, I’m thinking about someone else.

I’m absolutelynotthinking about Luke.

I move my hand more rapidly over my length. The pre-cum grows, merging with the water.

I wish I were on the bed. Jerking off in the shower has never been my thing. The bottles of shampoo and conditioner and soap have always taunted me when I’ve attempted to do so, reminding me I’m not focused on what I’m supposed to do.

I watch the guy in the video, slide his fingers—shorter than Luke’s—over his shaft. I’m pretty sure his shaft is shorter than Luke’s too, though it’s not a question I can ever ask him.

But now my mind drifts to the feel of Luke in the morning. I remember his thickness.

What if I’d turned toward him, instead of scrambled away? What if I hadn’t moved away last night, when I’d felt myself harden when he’d wrapped me against his chest, when I was certain at any moment he would feel my cock? What if instead I’d continued to let him move his arms up and down me? What if I’d still shivered, and he’d suggested we kiss, because that’s another way to keep warm. What if he’d sucked on my skin, sucked on my lips, sucked on my tongue?

My heartbeat hammers, as if he really did that. My eyes flutter shut, and I’m lost in the fantasy of Luke claiming me, of wrapping his large arms around me and not letting me go. Of kissing me over and over again. I can practically feel his fantasy tongue against my lips. I imagine his hands squeezing my ass, I imagine feeling his erection press into my belly, I imagine him suggesting, maybe sheepishly, maybe not, that he take care of me, take care of us.

I imagine his hand wrapping around me, of his shaft touching mine, of his tongue tangled with mine, his other hand cupping my ass—

And then I explode.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Luke

A low groan emanates from the bathroom, and my body is suddenly alert. Was that Sebastian?

My nerve endings tingle, and my cock, which has been harder and more throbbing than it usually is on mornings, jerks.

Images of a naked man with a pretty face and a thin frame with water dripping down his body, his cheeks red and flushed from the heat, invade my mind.

I imagine Sebastian touching himself. Taking himself in his hand. My heartbeat skitters, uneven and wild.

The shower turns off.