Page 32 of Taking Chances

“He’s still watching,” he says quietly, his lips barely moving.

My mind’s too slow to figure out what that means before his soft lips brush gently against mine. He breathes me in, and though the kiss is only a peck, it’s the dirtiest peck I’ve ever participated in. His tongue darts out to snake a taste of my lips before retrieving.

My legs quiver as my body buzzes with electricity.

Shoot, this was a good fake kiss.

His hand doesn’t leave my back the whole way to our room. I know it’s fake, but Bryce never used to touch me much. Not in a way that made me feelhis.

Lennox slides the key card and opens the door to the room, reminding me that there’s no way to sleep other than in the same bed.

“You can use the bathroom first. I’ll shower before bed,” he says, but I need some time to myself.

My head is still clouded with lust, lust that has no place being there.

“No, it’s OK. You can go first.” I smile, taking my heels off. The floor, despite being marble, is warm to my tired feet.

He heads to the bathroom while I walk up to the Juliet balcony, opening the drapes. Though it’s winter, I open the balcony doors to get some air inside.

A cool draft enters the room, prickling my skin with goosebumps. The only sound in the room is the shower running. I take a deep breath.

Tonight was a whirlwind of emotions, and I need to get myself in check. The lust is purely physiological, I know that. It will go away. But this feeling of being done—with other’s expectations, with forcing romance obviously not meant for me—it's here to stay.

I’ve been stuck for so long, doing what everyone else thought I should be doing. Trying to make everyone happy. Everyone except for me.

When I come home, things will be different. It’s time to figure out whatIwant. It’s time to take chancesIwant.

Closing the doors before it gets too cold, I turn around, gasping immediately.

There’s a glass partition wall between the shower and the bedroom, one that can be frosted with a single button. A button Lennox obviously forgot to press.

His back is to me, and I have a front row peep show to him taking a shower.

What if he turns around and sees me watching him?

I never turned on the lights in the room so maybe he won’t notice.

I should probably tell him to frost it, or at least not stare at him like a creep. But my feet are stuck to the floor, unable to move as my breath quickens from both panic and arousal.

His whole back is covered in intricate tattoos, all the way down to his ass. Fudge, that’s a good ass. His back muscles strain as his veiny arms travel all over his body, lathering it in soap.

I hold my breath as he turns halfway. His thick thighs flex as his manhood bobs proudly between them.

Holly hell.He wasn’t joking that first night when I mentioned nine-inch wieners. He turns his back to me again, but the image is engraved into my mind.

It’s like a myth. You read about it in great detail, imagining what it would be like encountering it in person, but the image doesn’t come close to the real thing. The image will surely upgrade my future reading experiences greatly.

Click or scan for a NSFW visual of this scene

Eventually, he wraps a towel around his waist and exits the bathroom. I’m still glued to the same spot, in the dark.

Turning on the lights in the bedroom, his head turns toward me and his brows scrunch.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” My ears are burning as heat rises to my face.

“You’re standing here, in the dark. And you look flushed.” The poor man is concerned, unaware I violated his privacy.

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