Page 57 of Sinful Blaze

Oh.

My.

God.

He’s fantasizing.

About me.

Heat instantly blooms deep inside my core. It’s all I can do not to audibly gasp.

Pasha’s head tilts forward once more, and the pace of his hand around his cock quickens. I have no idea what he’s imagining us doing. But I’m feeling pretty left out.

“Fuck, baby… That’s it…”

I don’t know what Fantasy Me is doing to him, but I’m cheering her on. Whatever it is, he’s loving every second of it and I wish I could take notes.

You know. Just in case.

Pasha’s back tenses. His breath comes out in short, heavy gasps, followed by a series of grunts that reverberate through his chest.

Fuck. I want to feel him rumble against my lips. I want to taste him when he comes apart like this.

I—

Should not be thinking about him that way.

Or standing in the doorway, watching him like Pregnant Peeping Tom.

I shut the door as silently as I can and step back into the bedroom—and right on time, too, because Pasha turns off the water a millisecond later.

And then the notification alarm on my phone dings.

Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!

I can’t just launch myself out down the hall. There’s not enough time and it would be way too obvious that I’m flustered.

I look around the bedroom and decide to cover my tracks by rummaging through my dresser drawers. Rearrange my makeup on the vanity counter. Something.

Oh, wait. I should check my phone.

Rideshare is here. Perfect. I’ll just?—

“Daphne.”

The sound of surprise that wheezes from me is probably the worst giveaway. I clear my throat, smooth out my hair, and turn to smile at him. “Hiii…”

Pasha looks at me from the bathroom doorway, brow furrowed deep. “I thought you left.”

He probably doesn’t mean it as accusatory as it sounds. Unless…

Double shit. Does he know? That I know? That I… saw?

“Car broke down,” I try to explain with an easy, breezy laugh. “I mean, it won’t start, so at least it’s still in the garage. My ride is here, so I should?—”

“Hold on.”

“But…”

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