Page 12 of Wrecked Rose

Three, judging by the size of the condoms in the drawer, Griff’s got a python in his pants.

My dick hardens at lightning speed.

The drawer also tells me quite a bit about myself.

One, I still have trouble telling my left from my right.

Two, no matter what I try to tell myself to the contrary, I’mtotallyhot for Griff.

Three, I’m going to have to do something about the raging boner I’m now sporting before I can go downstairs and eat breakfast with my friends.

Because, hell, I can’t even think about the dude without practically coming all over myself.

Frustrated, I yank my clothes off, setting them on the counter before I locate a towel to use and run the water.

Inside the walk-in shower, I stand, head down, for several seconds, letting the spray hit me at the base of my neck and across my shoulders. I’m really fucking tense. On edge. Horny. Trying to ignore the feelings of lust and desire I feel for Griff, I pick up a bottle of shampoo, squirt some into my hand, then rub it over my scalp. Quickly rinsing, I make a grab for the shower gel and begin to wash myself, only to realize belatedly that this is the scent that’s been assailing me since the first time I stood close enough to him to smell it—since I kissed him. Since I slept with my head on his chest.

Hell.I’m going to smell like him. I look up, cursing at the ceiling as I run my hands all over my skin. Every inhale practically brings me to my knees. I’m so aroused I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. And I’m desperately hard, there’s no going back. I take my cock in my soap-slicked palm and slowly stroke up and down my shaft.Fuck. Fuuckk.That feels too damn good—especially when I imagine it’s not my hand buthis.I tighten my grip, close my eyes, and all I can see is Griff and his twinkling sapphire-blue eyes, the way they appraise me. His luscious lips that I’d kissed last night. His rock-hard body.Hell.I really, really want to be in a position where he’d let me touch him again.

I’m so fucking stupid. Still, I increase the pace, gasping as electricity bolts down my spine and my body begins to shake. I rock my hips as I thrust into my hand, imagining the warm wetness is Griff’s welcoming mouth. In my mind’s eye, his cheeks hollow as he sucks me so good, I’m seconds from shooting down his throat.

My chest heaves, and animalistic groans and growls leave my lips. They echo off the walls of the marble-tiled bathroom as I come hard, my body tensing, cock jerking in my hand.

For several seconds, I can’t move. I’m weak. Spent. And absolutely stunned how quickly I’d gotten off. I think my brain hasn’t caught up yet. I’m not sure it can.

Knowing Griff is probably waiting on me so he can use the shower himself, I hurriedly rinse and shut off the water.

I towel myself dry as quickly as I can, taking slow, deep breaths, kind of like how Griff did earlier. My cock jumps at the thought of him, even though it’s been only minutes since I found my release. I’d hoped that would help things but, shit, maybe not.

A light tap to the door has my pulse spiking. Holy fuck, was he hanging around waiting for me in his room this whole time? Did he hear the moans? Did he know that I’d pleasured myself to thoughts of him?

I clumsily wrap the towel around my waist. “Yeah. Coming,” I say gruffly.

Ha. Ha-ha. Yeah, I was coming, all right.I suck my lips into my mouth, trying my best not to start awkwardly laughing.Okay, funny man. Time to get your ass out of here.

I pull the door open to find Griff directly on the other side. A full-on blush washes over his cheeks. Because he heard me? Or …? I follow his gaze, which has dropped down to my chest. I’m still damp from my shower and trying to imagine what he’s seeing and thinking.

His eyes flick back up to mine, and he scrubs through his hair with his hand, then gestures back toward his closet. “Um, I wanted to ask if you needed some clean clothes to change into.”

Chapter 8

Griff

Fuck.Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.Max stands before me, half naked, with steam billowing out of the bathroom from behind him. Beads of water dot his muscular chest. I can’t stop my eyes from drifting, from watching the droplets as they slide over the ridges and hollows of his torso and all the way down to the towel wrapped around his hips.

And for a second time, my dick reacts to this guy. What makes it worse is I’m not drunk—at least, I don’t think I still am. I’m so disoriented by the involuntary reaction of my body that I have trouble catching my breath. It’s like I’ve just gotten my ass handed to me at a hard practice—gotten the wind knocked out of me. My heart stampedes like a herd of wild horses. Blood pounds in my veins loudly enough that I hear it beating in my head. I can’t make sense of this.

This isn’t me.Is it?

The low-slung towel around his hips shouldn’t faze me. I see guys in the locker room like this all the time. Hell, I see some of the cockiest fuckers walking around buck naked, without a care in the world, and that doesn’t affect me—not really, anyway. I guess I’ve occasionally noticed an exceptionally good-looking guy. I’d never really thought anything of it before.

But what the actual fuck is going on with me? I know people who say things like “This has never happened before,” and everyone nods and smiles and is secretly saying, “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Butreally.I’ve never reacted quite like this to another man.

I can’t believe my home run hitter has come out to play ball twice in response to a gay man.

My chest rises and falls in ragged motions. Unable to control myself, my gaze keeps dipping down over his firmly muscled torso and then back up to his face, which is looking more and more perplexed by the second. I have no idea if he’s sensing my state of bewilderment or not. I suck in a breath. For fuck’s sake. This is ridiculous.

“Griff?”

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