Page 125 of Silver Elite

My mouth feels like it’s stuffed with a handful of the sand beneath my feet. I can’t do anything but stare as he removes his shirt. His boots. I almost choke on my tongue when he drops his pants.

His bare ass taunts me. Tanned and muscular. I saw a lot of male recruits showering less than an hour ago, even caught a full-frontal glimpse or two, but nothing gets my pulse racing faster than the sight of a naked Cross stepping into the shower.

The partition mercifully blocks his lower body from my view, sparing me from making an even bigger fool of myself. I’m already gawking at him like a complete imbecile.

He turns the water on and tips his head toward the spray, soaking his face and hair.

Holy hellfuck, that body.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that staring is rude?” He makes a tsking noise. “Where are your manners, Dove?”

I snap out of it to find his head turned in my direction, a smirk playing on his lips. And yet I still can’t look away. His dark hair is slicked back, emphasizing his striking features. Rivulets of water cascade down the broad expanse of his shoulders and hard lines of his chest. Each droplet seems to accentuate the contours of his body, glistening on his tanned skin.

He exudes a raw masculinity that leaves me mesmerized.

“Were you going to shower or just stand there and watch?”

I clench my teeth, steeling myself against his potent sex appeal. So what if he looks good naked? Since when do I lose control of my faculties around an attractive man?

Without a word, I enter the stall next to his and get undressed there. It’s a pointless stab at modesty—he’s so tall, he can see right into my stall. I could have chosen one that wasn’t right beside him, but I’m pretending to be unaffected.

I pull my shirt over my head and drape it over the wooden partition. When I take off my bra, I swear I hear his breath hitch, but a sidelong glance reveals his face is under the spray.

Despite my shaky hands, I manage to remove my pants. My underwear. I hang those up, too, and this time I know I didn’t imagine his sharp inhale.

I twist the faucet on and position myself under the hot spray. From the corner of my eye, I see Cross dragging both hands through his hair to push it away from his forehead. He glances at me again, then slides a bar of soap between his heavy pecs.

His lips quirk when I visibly swallow. The bastard is taunting me.

Fine. I can taunt, too. As I tip my head back to soak my hair, I turn to face him fully and enjoy the way his eyes flash with heat. But then that hot gaze rakes over my body, branding every exposed inch, and my heart gives my rib cage a beating under his scrutiny.

His shameless gaze drifts lower still. I know the moment his eyes land on my thigh, because they narrow, sharpen. He doesn’t ask about the burns.

Instead, he asks, “Are you fucking him?”

I wrinkle my brow. I wasnotexpecting that. “Who?”

“Sutler. You spend a lot of time with him.”

“Aw, Captain, that’s sweet of you to notice.” I lather the soap between my hands, then run them over my collarbone and breasts.

Cross’s eyes downright sizzle.

“What if I was?” I can’t stop the note of challenge. “Is there a rule against fraternizing?”

“Even if there was, I assume you’d break it.” His voice is low. Raspy. But his face is unreadable. “So are you?”

I hide a smile. “No.”

His expression doesn’t change. He starts rinsing the soap off his body, and I can’t help but steal another furtive glance.

I commit every detail to memory: the curve of his jawline, the ridges of his abdomen, the tantalizing hint of his ass beneath the partition. He’s a work of fucking art, sculpted from marble, marked by ink, and bathed in moonlight.

“Are you sleeping with Ivy?” The question pops out before I can stop it.

Cross slides a knowing look my way. “No.”

“Roe says she’s basically the epitome of your type.” A foreign entity has seized control of my vocal cords.Shut the hell up, Wren.

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