Page 31 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

“Guh.”

I stepped closer to get a better look. Fluffy soap suds meandered down his back and the stark black tattoos scrawled across his arm—Good god. The buttoned-up city boy has tattoos everywhere?—until a clump of them stopped on the side of his ass. His muscles bunched and stretched as he scrubbed himself, setting the suds in motion again.

Something was wrong with the air around me. It didn’t work the same way it used to.

“Waylon? I think the connection is bad.”

“Nuh,” I breathed.

The sound of her grumble preceded the end of the call. I shoved the phone into my back pocket and reached for my uncomfortably crowded dick.

Which was exactly when the naked man in my shower looked up and caught me staring at him like some kind of Peeping Tom.

TWELVE

SILAS

I was already half-hard from imagining Way’s cowboy-lean body moving through ranch chores when the object of my fantasy appeared outside the shower windows. Instead of looking at me with a heated, seductive stare, however, he was gawping at me with comical bug eyes and an open mouth.

I had to bite back a laugh.

As soon as I lifted my hand in acknowledgment, he snapped his head to the side and raced out of my view like his ass was on fire. Unfortunately, I was no longer able to hold in the laugh, and it bellowed out of me, made stronger and harder to control as the events of the entire day tumbled through my memory.

If I’d tried telling this story at a cocktail party back in the city, no one would believe me.

The bathroom door opened a crack. “Are you laughing at me? Because that’s rude as hell.”

His annoyed tone only made me laugh harder. “You have to admit this situation is funny,” I called through the door. The water pressure was stellar, and I wasn’t quite ready to end the shower, even though I was excited to spar with him face-to-face.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one standing smack in the center of a category-five whirlwind of town gossip.”

I was pretty sure I was. But because I hated hearing him upset and wanted him distracted, I told a little white lie. “Can you please open the door? I can’t hear you.”

“Never mind.”

I raised my voice as if I was on a busy aircraft carrier. “Sorry, what was that?”

The door lurched open, and my angry cowboy scowled at me. “I said never…” His eyes roamed over my body like a very diligent inspector as he stopped to swallow. “Mind.”

Even when angry, the man was irresistible. Hell, he was probably more irresistible because he was angry.

Way was also dressed only in a filthy white tank soaked in sweat over low-slung jeans. Damp tendrils of hair stuck to his face, and a sweaty indent from his hat band marred his thick blond hair.

“You’re dirty,” I said, voice lower than I’d intended.

He blinked. “Stop pretending you can read my mind. You have no idea what I was thinking!”

I pointed at him, biting back another laugh. “I didn’t mean your thoughts, cowboy. I meant your clothes. Your face. Your… everything.”

“Oh.” His face turned red.

Realization dawned. “Why, Mayor Fletcher, were you thinking dirty thoughts? You naughty boy.”

He lifted his chin, deliberately snapping his eyes up from where they’d settled uncomfortably on my very interested cock. “You wish.”

I did wish. But more than anything, I wished to touch his stubborn-ass chin, to hold it firmly while I taught his sensual mouth a lesson.

“Get naked,” I said, lowering my voice.

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