Page 79 of Whiskey Splash

My body snaps closed from its arched stretch, my hands shooting to the top of my towel to grip it. It can’t be! And yet, in the nebula of steam on the other side of the stone chamber stands Desmond.

He leans against the arched doorway, his arms crossed over his bare chest. The ripples of his abdomen glazed in the watery perspiration of the room, and his thick V of muscles are exposed just above the towel he’s got wrapped around his hips. It’s too precarious, that tiny scrap of cloth with its split in the fabric, showing off his muscled thigh as if the towel isn’t long enough to contain him.

I push damp hair from my face and sit up, clutching the towel to my breastbone.

“I’m hallucinating!” I squawk out, my voice echoing through the tiny room.

It’s Thursday.

Hello, Thursday! He doesn’t come back till tomorrow.

I must be high on steam or whatever drug-laced ju-ju goodness they pump into this room, because he cannot,is not,in front of me. Not at the spa. Not where I work. Not with the girls about to walk in at any moment!

A sexy smile creeps over his mouth. “Did you miss me?” His smooth voice coats the steam, slipping over me like the hot moisture beading my every extremity.

“It’s not Friday!” I say lamely, his presence immediately waking my body, the wet towel over my front molding to my chest. “You can’t be—”

“I finished filming early,” he says, pushing up off the archway and taking a step deeper into the room. “I booked a flight back to Oahu as soon as I could.”

I shoot up, clutching the towel over my front as I face him. “You can’t be here! In here!” My legs wobble as my entire back and legs are licked with foggy heat. “The other girls are going to come in! I’m waiting for them.” I point behind him at the door. “The spa isn’t open and—”

“You don’t think I paid them off?” he says smoothly, taking another dangerous step toward me and splitting that towel of his open so the slit runs all the way up to his hip. My mouth goes dry as he practically shows me his entire naked flank, and it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath that towel either. My core starts to pound, his presence disarming.

“What do you mean you paid them?”

“Well,” Desmond explains, “if Mr. Clarke tips everyoneat this spa—” His eyes light on me with his scheme. “Then it’s going to be hard for your boss to single you out. She’s going to have to think I’ve had everyone’s hands on my—”

My skin bristles at the idea of anyone else’s hands on him, which he notices, releasing that wicked smile from his lips. He takes another step, deliberately adjusting his towel and unleashing the knot. White fabric slips off his hips, unspooling around the back of his ass, and I can’t help my mouth from falling open at the overtness of it.

All of his naked body is exposed except for the drape of fabric between his legs where he fists the towel right in front of his cock.

“You’re going to get me fired!” I rasp out, unable to keep my eyes from raking over his glorious thighs. Thighs I want to climb!

“I promise you I’m not,” he says walking toward me. “Mrs. Rose is gone.” I shudder at the fact that he knows her name, and he raises his eyebrows to say he’s done his homework. “Naomi is gone,” he continues, inching closer. “All your coworkers are gone. It seems you’ve been given the job to lock up for the night. Just you, Esme.”

I step backwards at his advance, the sight of his powerful body turning me to liquid, making my pussy thrum with excitement.

Alone.

That’s what he just said.

He paid everyone off so he could slip into this steam room and be alonewith me.

I clutch the towel over my front like a tiny lamb, knowing he’s seen everything under it before, and knowing just as well that I know exactly what’s waiting for me under that fisted towel between his legs. I step back again, hitting the wall behind me, my ass pressing into the hot stone, the light from the lantern falling over my shoulders, covering me in swirls of shadow.

Heat ripples in the air between us, a mirage maybe, an illusion of steam and heat as he keeps walking forward. His gold eyes are dark and dangerous, his presence completely occupying.

We’re only two small towels away from being naked together, again, only steps away from our glistening bodies being pressed and tangled sinfully. The steam sets me to melt, every inch of me feverish, my skin unsure it can handle the brand of his hands, his weight, the demand of him.

“Desmond, what if you’re wrong and someone comes—”

“I locked the door,” he says, only a step from me. “There are no windows, no cameras, no one. I’ll never let it be anyone except you and me,” he says with a firmness that makes my heart balloon.

“You and me and your ten-inch cock,” I blurt out and he dips his head, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. It cuts the heat, and the boyishness of his amused smile makes my heart pound.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Just the three of us.” He nods, dropping his towel to give me a hot eye-full of his thick cock.

My mouth dehydrates from lack of moisture and seeing how aroused he already is, at how easy it would be to drop to my knees and wrap my hands around those gorgeous thighs and return the favor he once gave me.

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