Page 128 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

By the time we make it to the bathroom, there’s a trail of clothes leading back to the door—a chaotic breadcrumb trail we’ll probably trip over later.

Not that I’m thinking about that right now.

Who gives a shit about the mess?

Austin stands in front of me in her lace bra and panties, cheeks flushed and hair slightly mussed as she spins around. I catch the soft gasp she tries to stifle when she sees the stone-enclosed spa shower with its slate tile, jets on every wall, and the wide bench in the corner.

A rainfall showerhead is mounted in the center.

“Holy smokes, you weren’t kidding,” she says, turning back to me. “How did I not notice this?”

“Because,” I say, my hands finding her hips. “You’ve never showered here before.”

My dick strains against her ass crack, body presses against hers, and I feel the heat between us ignite.

My lips find the curve of her shoulder, trailing kisses along her bare skin, and her soft sigh is all the encouragement I need.

I step around her slowly, letting my fingers brush her waist as I move. Her eyes follow my every movement, dark with anticipation, as I reach for the sleek faucet handles. One twist, then another, and the shower bursts to life.

Water cascades from the showerhead in the ceiling, its sound echoing softly in the spacious enclosure.

Steam begins to rise, curling around us like an invitation, and the room grows warmer by the second.

Sexy.

As.

Fuck.

Her lips curl into a smirk; there’s no mistaking the spark in her eyes. “I’m so ready for this.”

Off come her panties.

Off comes her bra.

Honestly, part of me wouldn’t have minded seeing those delicate pieces of lace clinging to her skin, soaked and plastered to her curves. But I’m not going to complain about her standing there completely naked, water droplets already beginning to kiss her bare body.

Her confidence is intoxicating, the way she stands there unabashed, owning every inch of herself.

My hands itch to touch her, to explore every curve, every line, but for a moment, all I can do is take her in.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“You’re worth staringat,” I reply, my voice rougher than I intended.

Dick.

So.

Hard.

She doesn’t look away, her eyes locked with mine as her fingers trail down my chest. The featherlight touch sends a shiver through me despite the heat.

And then her hands find the waistband of my boxers.

“Your turn,” she murmurs.

In one swift motion, the last barrier between us is gone, and the cool air hits my skin before the heat of her body replaces it.

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