Page 67 of Lust

“What about the bungalow next door?”

“No.” My voice feels disembodied, as if in a dream. “It’s booked. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”

The words seem to settle over her slowly. Those big brown eyes drift around the room before settling on my bed, and a darkness rises within me. I want to grab her by the throat, punish her for making me think these wicked thoughts.

“Would you mind—” Her lips close.

“What?” My tone is sharp and commanding, and those brown eyes grow wide and vulnerable.

I need to calm the fuck down. She can’t know what I’m thinking.

Then it will be over.

She licks that full bottom lip. “Would it be too much trouble if I took a bath? I’m still shivering from all that cold water.”

I fight the groan about to leave my lips.

Mariana bathing. While I sit here. Left to imagine what’s on the other side of that door.

“Of course,” I answer. “Get to it.”

Based on the slight widening of her eyes, it must have sounded like a command again, when I meant for it to be a suggestion. Why does the dominant side of me always come out with her? I thought I left these proclivities behind me with the meaningless one-night stands. With effort, I turn away from her and sit on the bed, pretending to look at my phone.

The faucet turns on, muffled through the closed door. Heat engulfs my whole body, and my skin vibrates with electricity. I try to steady myself. To focus on anything that isn’t Mariana’s bare, beautiful skin.

I turn on the TV, hoping the noise will drown out my thoughts. I scroll aimlessly through the hotel’s limited selection of shows and movies, but my mind keeps drifting back to that bathroom.

The sound of water splashing calls to my senses. What is she doing? Scrubbing herself? No. She’s bathing just to get warm.

But maybe her thoughts are going in the same direction as mine, and she’s using this strange set of circumstances to touch herself. Warmth radiates from my thighs to my gut as my thumb brushes over my cock.

Oh, fuck.

This has to stop.

I clench my fist and set it firmly at my side before standing up and walking to the fridge. I pull out the bottle of beer I picked up from the market earlier. I pop the cap and take a swig.

No. This is a bad idea. Lowered inhibitions are the last thing I need when Mariana’s going to sleep in my room tonight.

I frantically reach for my phone and check the time. I haven’t heard a peep from her in ten minutes. What if she fell asleep? What if she’s hurt?

I find myself standing in front of the bathroom door, my heart pounding in my chest. I knock lightly, my voice barely a whisper. “Mariana?”

No answer.

“Mariana,” I say louder. I’m about to knock again when something wicked within me halts my fist. I’ve already called for her twice. I’d be entirely justified to peek inside to make sure she’s okay…

Iamjustified. Iamworried she’s hurt.

I push the door open, my pulse drumming loud in my ears. The soft glow from the vanity lights spills out, casting long shadows over the room. When my gaze drifts to the tub, I nearly fall over at the sight in front of me. She rests against the back of the tub with her mouth open, but she’s not asleep.

Her hand is moving rapidly under the water.

“Shit,” she squeaks before lifting her hands and covering her breasts with her palms.

It only makes my cock even harder.

“Mari,” I croak out. The heat that surges through me is as relentless as a desert sun.

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