Page 88 of From Best Friend to Bride
I shed my sleeping clothes and stepped under the hot water. I dropped my chin to my chest, letting the water beat down on the back of my neck and tops of my shoulders in a rhythmic massage. I was as tense as could be from that just now, but it showed no sign of dissipating, and I knew why.
My fucking erection.
It wasn’t going anywhere.
I turned the dial to cool the water to see if it would help. Clearly today wasn’t my lucky day, because all I achieved was freezing my arse off and not getting rid of this unwelcome visitor.
Fuck it.
There was only one way to deal with this.
I turned the front of my body into the flow of water and grabbed my cock. Bracing myself with one hand against the tiles, I lowered my head and closed my eyes as I began to stroke my erection. It’d been a while since I’d stood here like a teenager in my bathroom, but given the situation in my bed…
Deli.
My cock twitched, and heat flooded through me.
Fuck, was I really turned on by her? We’d shared a bed countless times before and I could count on one hand the number of times this biological phenomenon had happened, but now… now that I’d kissed her once, now that she was my wife, this was happening more times than I cared to admit to.
Usually, it went away.
Usually, it wasn’t so stubborn.
I tried to think of anything but her.
Taxes.
Helping a cow give birth.
The cost of repairs to the roof in one of the old barns.
Heck, I even briefly tried to remember sex with my ex, but nothing.
Not a single fucking thing.
It didn’t even turn me off.
Just… nothing.
I ground my teeth together and sent a mental apology in the direction of the bedroom.
What I was about to do was a secret I would take to my grave.
If by some stroke of bad luck Deli ever discovered that I’d wanked to the thought of her, there was only one path I could take: death.
Yet it was all too easy. The mental image of her sleeping in her bed, her dark hair stark against the light blue bedding, her face curled into my pillow, came all too easily. Guilt coiled in my stomach as my mind went further, pulling the covers away from her body.
I already knew the shape of her body.
I knew where her curves were. I knew that she hated how the extra pounds clung to her lower stomach and pushed it out,lamenting that they never went to her arse. I knew that her legs were toned from years of working in the pub, and I knew that her nipples poked through the thinner fabric of her pyjama top when her chest was exposed to air.
That was the image I conjured. This unholy imagination of mine conjured the dirtiest thing I could allow it to.
Her naked in my bed, nipples pebbled, legs splayed across the mattress.
But she wasn’t asleep.
She was looking at me, sliding her hand between her legs. She was teasing me with her wicked little grin, watching me as I touched myself. She slid off her pyjama shorts and underwear, opening her legs wider, inviting me to watch as she touched herself.
