Page 26 of The Close-Up
“You don’t sound okay. Crap, did you fall?” Simon hollers.
Panic and pleasure shoot through me while I thrash. I open my mouth to tell him “No,” but I can’t form any words. The most I can manage is dialing back my scream to a moan.
“Hang on, I’m coming in!”
When Simon bursts in, I’m at the tail end of climax. But these are monster aftershocks after an orgasm like that. My limbs are trembling, my breathing is ragged and loud, my chest is still heaving—and it’s clear as crystal what I’ve been up to.
The whole thing only lasts seconds, but it’s long enough for me to feel the burn of utter mortification. Because as Simon stands above me processing the image of me splayed out in the tub, it doesn’t take long for him to figure it all out.
That twist of concern in his face soon morphs into confusion. A beat later there’s surprise. Then recognition. I watch it all play out from his eyes to his mouth, to the red flush on his skin.
His eyebrows dart all the way up to the top of his forehead. “Oh,” he finally says.
There’s nowhere for me to hide, so I don’t even bother. But I do manage to slip one hand over my crotch and slide my arm over my breasts.
“Yeah, um. I didn’t, uh, fall.”
His complexion is now beet red as he does a slow scan of my body. It takes a moment before his eyes shoot back up to my face. His stare turns shy and embarrassed, as if he’s just now realizing that he probably shouldn’t have checked out my naked body.
“I see that.”
My eyes drop to the front of his pants, which showcase a generous bulge.
“Oh.” It’s the same word Simon just said, but when I say it, there’s a hitch to it. A glimmer of intrigue I didn’t feel until this instant. Because that bulge is broadcasting that Simon is totally into this—he’s intomein this moment.
Something inside of me turns bold. It’s like the embarrassment from moments before has evaporated, leaving behind arousal and amusement. And I’m so very on board.
Mustering all the arousal-fueled courage in my body, I hold Simon’s gaze. And then I raise my eyebrow. The corner of my mouth soon follows.
It’s a silent question I’m asking him—and I think I already know the answer.
I wouldn’t normally be so brazen, but this isn’t a normal situation. It’s a comedy of errors that’s just turned into the hottest moment of my life. I’m asking if Simon is game to join me. And judging by the slow rise of his bare chest, that hint of a grin playing on his lips, the way he keeps looking at me with hunger in his eyes, he’s up for it.
Screw professionalism. Screw every other excuse I’ve come up with over the past couple of weeks as to why I can’t give in to my attraction to Simon. None of it matters right now when we’re seconds from pouncing on each other.
“Come here.” The words fall in a raspy whisper.
My heart thuds as I watch the slight upward curve of his mouth turn into a full-fledged grin. He steps toward me and moves to shut the door.
But then the front door slams.
“We’re back!” A gaggle of excited voices follow.
Someone announces that they’re going to fire up the grill. The sound of glasses clanking echoes.
“Hey, Simon! We got that Scotch you like!”
I sit up, head twisted in the direction of the noise, mouth open in disbelief.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I fall back into the tub, water splashing all around me. I groan, then laugh, then groan again.
When I look up at Simon, his face is twisted in a pained expression, like he can’t believe this is happening either.
With my eyes on his, I sigh and shrug. He shrugs too before letting out a flustered laugh. He heads out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, I slide under the surface of the bath and let out a scream that I’m grateful is muffled by the water.
