Page 32 of Unleashing Chaos

But something strange happens after that. He comes back out a few seconds later in nothing but his black boxer briefs, running his fingers through his chestnut hair, causing it to stand in different directions. His thumb is still swiping across his phone’s screen, which is highly unusual. He hasn’t taken a shower, turned down his bed, or separated his laundry. I’m choosing to ignore how creepy it is that I know his routine that well.

My gaze drifts below his waistline, and my thighs clench with desire, a gasp escaping my lips. Jace’s nightly routine has gone out the window because whatever he’s looking at has given him a massive erection.

“Fuck,” I whisper, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth.

He paces the room, and not once does he look up from his phone. He fidgets between slipping his hand down to adjust himself and rubbing his palm along the back of his neck. It’s almost as if he’s conflicted.

What’s got you all riled up, Wilder?

The pacing stops and he stares down at his erection, which is still alive and well. I swear he tilts his head enough that he can see my window from the corner of his eye. Like he’s made up his mind about something, he marches across his room and slams his hand against the light switch on the wall.

The room goes dim but not dark. The bathroom light is still on, casting everything in a buttery glow. He walks to the foot of his bed and tosses his phone on the mattress before falling back beside it. I lift my head from my pillow and examine the profile of his body. He lies there with his feet touching the ground and his arms at his side for what feels like several minutes. The screen goes dark, and I wonder if he fell asleep. All of this is so unlike him.

My question is answered when his head slowly turns my way. I drop down, landing in an awkward position. My heart hammers in my chest, and I freeze. He didn’t see me. There’s no way he knows I’m awake. My diffuser light isn’t that strong, is it?

I inch my head in his direction, hoping his gaze has moved away. I suck in a sharp breath. He’s still facing me, and his hand is drifting down his abdomen. I should turn my back and ignore what he’s doing.

But I don’t.

The overwhelming desire to match his movements has the back of my fingers brushing over the swells of my breasts. I take in a sudden breath when I feel how hard my nipples are through the satin, and I can’t help but turn my hand over and pinch them once, my lips parting with a whimper. Keeping my eyes on him, I slide one hand down my stomach to match his, but instead of stopping, I slide my fingers just beneath the waistband of my lacy panties, running them over the silky, soaking wet skin between my thighs.

My breathing stops as I wait to see what he’ll do next. He follows my lead. The tips of his fingers inch beneath his waistband. He swipes them back and forth, teasing himself before his entire hand disappears inside. The black material of his underwear leaves nothing to the imagination. His fingers curl around his hard length. He tips his head back, and I swear he lets out a drawn-out fuck.

I stop teasing myself and press my thumb to my clit, sliding two fingers inside my slick entrance, and I’m unable to stop the moan that slips from my lips. The need I’d been feeling for Jace boils to the surface and there’s no more holding it back. Not when it feels like he’s watching me as he pleasures himself.

Taking my bottom lip between my teeth, I rub harder and my back bows off the bed as my legs begin to shake. But I don’t take my eyes off him. All I can think of is how I wish it was his hands on me, and that this is the first time I’m openly acknowledging that I have thought of him every time I’ve touched myself for the past three weeks.

He locks eyes with me, and the space separating us disappears. It’s like the pool that our rooms overlook vanishes into a black hole. His window becomes my window, and we’re right beside each other. The languid strokes of his hand pick up speed and his lips part. His mouth is so perfect, those sharp peaks of his cupid’s bow. I want to know how his kisses taste.

His mouth moves and I hear the words as if he’s whispering them in my ear. Come for me.

I can’t stop myself from unraveling. I cry out as the little coils in my lower abdomen unfurl and every nerve ending in my body crackles with pleasure. But I don’t close my eyes like I ordinarily would. I keep them on him and say his name. I beg him to let go.

Jace . . . please.

He curls into himself, his chin resting on his chest. The muscles in his abdomen flex and he grits his teeth. His hand stops on an upward stroke, and he trembles. It is so damn beautiful to see him falling apart.

Jace’s arms fall lifelessly to his sides, and he stares at his ceiling fan. He remains like that, his chest rapidly moving up and down. When his breathing slows, he looks my way again and tips his chin. His mouth forms the words thank you before he stands up and vanishes into his bathroom.

He’s thanking me? Damn, I should be on my knees—well, I’d like to be.

But I have a feeling what just happened between us is the closest I will ever get to touching him. And I’ll just have to be okay with that.

Twelve

DESI

Cannon and I sit across from each other at our favorite sports bar with a basket of fried pickles between us. He has this sixth sense when it comes to me needing some quality time with a friend. He barely had the words fried pickles out of his mouth before I’d grabbed my purse and was out the door.

The house was feeling stuffy with the lingering question of what happened last night. Jace went about his routine like it was no big deal. He drank his green vomit morning smoothie after working out and asked me if I had plans for the day. We exchanged small talk until he reminded me to rinse out my bowl and start the dishwasher before retreating to his office. At no point was there a good opportunity to work in a casual Hey, did we watch each other masturbate last night?

I’m wondering if my imagination was playing tricks on me. Because if it wasn’t, how could he be so indifferent about it? When people talk about the elephant in the room, no elephant is bigger than watching your roommate get off.

“So, are you going to talk to me about what’s bothering you?” Cannon asks, popping a pickle drenched in ranch dressing into his mouth.

“What do you mean?” I ask too quickly, cramming another pickle in right behind the one I just ate, washing them both down with a big gulp of Diet Coke.

He laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “You’re inhaling those pickles like you may never see them again after tonight. And you’ve hardly said a word all day. Come on, tell me. You’ll feel better.”

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