Page 13 of The Chance

But it’s just Mac.

Chapter Six

Mac

Holy fuck.

My heart pounds and my stomach clenches painfully as I lean into the vanity in my ensuite bathroom and do my best not to hyperventilate.

Waking up next to Jordan was pure fucking bliss until the reality came crashing in and reminded me that we’re not likethat.

He did it for the job.

He’s straight.

My insides twist all up at the reminder and I have to force myself to blink away the burning in my eyes.

It’s fine. The voice in my head sounds suspiciously like Jordan’s.You slept, it’s fine.

I … did sleep. For what feels like the first time in a long fucking time, I finally found an REM cycle and stuck with it. There were no bad dreams or constant repositioning. I don’t even remember leaning close enough to end up half on top of him with his skin touching mine. His arm around me. Hands in my hair.

My cock pinned between his thigh and mine.

Which only reminds me of theotherproblem currently throbbing in my shorts that’s refusing to go down, even amidst the flood of cortisol currently pumping through my system.

Forcing a choppy breath through my dried throat, I dig the heel of my palm against my groin and groan.

Shitfuck.

With fingers wrapping around my length through the thin shorts, I dive for the shower.

It takes several slaps of the faucet to get the water running and I’m stumbling into the cold spray without even bothering to undress. I’m panting, shivering despite the heat that takes over the artic flow against my back, but it doesn’t matter that the temperature has hit near scalding.

All it does is remind me of the heat I woke up against and I’m fumbling around for the shower lube before I even realize I’ve moved.

My palm is slicked, and my abs are clenched when I peel back the wet shorts to free my cock. It springs up, nearly slapping my stomach, and hangs heavy in the air.

I can’tnotdo this.

The head is angry and nearing purple, the slit winking back at me with a taunting bead of precum leaking from the tip.

It’s almost as if my own boner is pointing and laughing at me for having been lacking so damn bad in the sex life department that I’m pretty sure my own hand can get me off in three seconds flat.

Not to mention, if I ever end up inside anyone ever again, I’m certain I’ll come on the first stroke.

Don’t think about your bodyguard.

Growling, I wrap my slick fist around my shaft and pump.

My jerking is erratic, but the tingles are immediate. From my curling toes to my scalp, I feel every stroke of my palm sliding along my flesh.

Don’t think about your bodyguard.

It’s been so long that anyone has been close enough that I’ve actually felt the skin against skin contact I crave deep down. The closeness and intimate familiarity of another body slanting along mine.

Don’t think about Jordan.

I’ve tried going back to my one-night stands.

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