Page 117 of Their Greatest Strength

And I can’t blame them. I’d do the same exact thing.

34

BLAKELY

I almost wishI was drunk right now.

Being stone-cold sober is doing nothing for me. I’m horny beyond belief, and instead of having the courage to jump on Jamie the moment we got home, I flung my shoes off down the hall and ran up to my room.

I’m sitting on my bed in the dark, head hanging and swinging side to side. The soft comforter is clutched in my fists as my arousal mixes with frustration.

Jamie did everything right. He didn’t push me or try to gain any ground that wasn’t his already to take. I ran, and he didn’t plow down my door to get to me. He’s fucking perfect, and here I am, pulling away because I’m scared to sleep with him. Withanyoneafter so long of being alone.

I’m not a virgin, but I’m far from experienced. My first time was in the back of a rusted old Ford in the heat of summer when I was eighteen. I didn’t know how to orgasm with a partner then, and I’m still not sure if he even knew women could orgasm.

It’s been a long, long time since then. Years that Jamie would have been plowing his way through Vancouver with suave grins and sweet talk.

Spikes of envy push through my stomach. It’s uncomfortable enough that I stand and shove my hair back, suddenly hating the feeling of it touching my face.

Nate’s already tucked in his bed, dead to the world. Even if I stomp down the hall toward Jamie’s room, he won’t wake up. I could slam a fist to the door, and my brother would still be fast asleep, none the wiser.

In a blink, I’m clutching my doorknob, my teeth gritted and nerves popping beneath my skin. I yank open the door and shove myself into the hallway before I can change my mind.

It’s not like we have to have sex just because I’m going to his room. Jamie would never pressure me into that. Maybe I just want to sleep in his bed tonight. After our dancing at the club, I’m feeling unusually clingy. Like I don’t think I could fall asleep alone.

God, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to bang the daylights out of him, though. Even just thinking of having him above me, or behind . . . or beside . . .fuck. I’m going to lose my damn mind.

His bedroom door is cracked open, and when I knock, it nudges forward another inch.

“Jamie?”

There’s no reply, so I push the door open completely. Swiping my hands down my bare legs, I glance down at my nightshirt and cringe. It’s unbelievably sad that this is the sexiest bed outfit that I own.

Stepping into his room, I notice the sound of running water and look toward the ensuite door. It’s slightly ajar the same way his bedroom door was, and now I’m thinking back to every time I’ve ever passed his room at night. The door has always been shut completely. Except for tonight.

I suck in a long inhale before letting it out fast. Assumptions are for idiots. I know better than to read into something like this, but would I be an even bigger idiot not to assume he left both doors open for me?

Fuck it.

He wants me just as much as I want him. And it’s not like the worst-case scenario here is that he freaks out seeing me in the bathroom while he showers and kicks me out of his house.

Yeah, no pressure.

Steam billows out from the bathroom, curling around me when I push the door open and take a cautious step inside. The vanity mirror is fogged up, and the heat from the shower is blistering. Or maybe that’s just me.

I could combust into flames when I make out the figure in the shower. Glass doors do nothing to hide him, even with the mix of steam and fog. His bulk is too recognizable, every bulging muscle making the arousal in my belly start to burn.

Drifting closer, I toy with the hem of my shirt, contemplating taking it off and joining him beneath the water. That’s why I’m in here, right?

I hold my breath and take it off. It’s like peeling off a layer of my skin as fear and insecurity fling doubts around in my head. Cautiously, I add the shirt to the pile of his clothes on the floor and hover a hand over the shower door.

Jamie’s not standing still beneath the water. Even with his back to me, this close up, I can see his arm moving at an even, quick pace.

My eyes grow wide. I throb between my legs when he groans long and low and shifts his body enough that I can see the thick shaft of his cock gripped in his fist. I gasp, my nipples tightening and becoming sensitive to the cool air that’s following me from the open door.

Jamie plants a hand to the shower wall and thrusts into his fist. I peel the glass door open and blink through the fog, refusing to take my eyes from him as I step inside. The stone floor is wet and slippery as I make my way to him, careful not to fall.

Without the fogged glass in the way, I can make out every bunch of muscles straining in his back, the wet hair hanging down into his eyes, and the round ass that clenches with everystroke of his fist. He has two dimples at the bottom of his back and freckles along his spine that I can’t help but want to sit and count. Thighs thick and strong and peppered with dark hair keep him steady.

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