room.
Bennett attempted to adjust himself, but it was plain as day.
Finally, Bennett turned away, inhaled a deep breath, and then charged toward the bathroom. “I’m
going to shower,” he mumbled in my direction.
He was as turned on as I was and trying to get far away from me as possible. “Bennett, it’s okay,” I said. I felt pinpricks all over my body. It was all I could do not to reach out to
him.
“Give me a minute.” He closed the bathroom door, and I heard him lean his full weight against it.
“Wait, Bennett.” I had this desperate desire, this powerful need to be near him, to do something
about all of this pent-up frustration. If not for me, then for him.
I heard the shower turn on right before he yanked open the door. He stepped back in the room to
grab something from his bag, which was on the floor by his bed. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
The spigot was turned on full blast and steam was already escaping beyond the glass shower door.
When he straightened himself, toothbrush holder in hand, I noticed his breathing was labored.
I scanned down his body to his full-blown erection and his shaking hands.
I felt this overwhelming hunger to touch him as he brushed past me, his stride purposeful.
“Bennett,” I whispered. “I want to help.”
He stopped suddenly and sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Avery.”
I took a step toward him “Please.”
One step closer and he didn’t move away. I stood in front of him and saw his dark and hooded eyes,
overwhelming desire coursing through them.
I inched my fingers to his waistband and he groaned, the container in his hand clattering to the
floor. When the tip of his erection poked out of his shorts and met air, his breathing only intensified.
Edging my hands beneath his shirt, I pulled it over his head.
When he twisted to deposit his shirt on the floor I spotted a second tattoo, low on his back. I
remembered what he said about them being well-placed.
I smoothed my fingers down his chest as goose bumps broke out over his flesh. I eased his shorts
down and let his erection spring free. Damn. He was taut, smooth, and all kinds of exquisite.
I trailed my hands down his belly to his hips, teasing the area around his erection with my fingers.
He grabbed my face and kissed me with such passion and conviction I was begging for air. His mouth was on fire as his tongue tangled deeply with mine.
“Bennett, you’re beautiful,” I whispered against his lips.
Then I tugged his fingers away from my face and down to his sides. I watched as he balled his fists,
but he kept his hands there.
I looked into his eyes. “Can I touch you?”
His response came out in a muffled pant.
I traced my thumb over his silky tip and watched how his chest heaved and his eyes glazed over.
When my fingers grasped the length of him the breath caught in the back of his throat. He felt firm and
smooth in my steady hands.
Bennett knotted his fingers in my hair and then skimmed them along my neckline. I relished every
touch, every breath, every time he whispered my name.
I pulled his shorts all the way down his legs, and he stepped out of them. “Get in the shower.”
Without hesitation he moved backward, crossing over the threshold of the door, and then under the
stream of water. I watched as it cascaded off his shoulders and beaded down his chest. I reached for the
hotel soap, unwrapping it and running it under the water stream, despite my arms getting wet. I lathered
up and then washed the front of him—his neck, his chest, his stomach. When my fingers traced down
below to his dark and curly hair, he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. My fingers were sufficiently
soapy, and when I worked my hand up and down the length of him, he braced the shower wall. “Jesus,
Avery.”
As I moved my fingers fast, and then
Bennett attempted to adjust himself, but it was plain as day.
Finally, Bennett turned away, inhaled a deep breath, and then charged toward the bathroom. “I’m
going to shower,” he mumbled in my direction.
He was as turned on as I was and trying to get far away from me as possible. “Bennett, it’s okay,” I said. I felt pinpricks all over my body. It was all I could do not to reach out to
him.
“Give me a minute.” He closed the bathroom door, and I heard him lean his full weight against it.
“Wait, Bennett.” I had this desperate desire, this powerful need to be near him, to do something
about all of this pent-up frustration. If not for me, then for him.
I heard the shower turn on right before he yanked open the door. He stepped back in the room to
grab something from his bag, which was on the floor by his bed. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
The spigot was turned on full blast and steam was already escaping beyond the glass shower door.
When he straightened himself, toothbrush holder in hand, I noticed his breathing was labored.
I scanned down his body to his full-blown erection and his shaking hands.
I felt this overwhelming hunger to touch him as he brushed past me, his stride purposeful.
“Bennett,” I whispered. “I want to help.”
He stopped suddenly and sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Avery.”
I took a step toward him “Please.”
One step closer and he didn’t move away. I stood in front of him and saw his dark and hooded eyes,
overwhelming desire coursing through them.
I inched my fingers to his waistband and he groaned, the container in his hand clattering to the
floor. When the tip of his erection poked out of his shorts and met air, his breathing only intensified.
Edging my hands beneath his shirt, I pulled it over his head.
When he twisted to deposit his shirt on the floor I spotted a second tattoo, low on his back. I
remembered what he said about them being well-placed.
I smoothed my fingers down his chest as goose bumps broke out over his flesh. I eased his shorts
down and let his erection spring free. Damn. He was taut, smooth, and all kinds of exquisite.
I trailed my hands down his belly to his hips, teasing the area around his erection with my fingers.
He grabbed my face and kissed me with such passion and conviction I was begging for air. His mouth was on fire as his tongue tangled deeply with mine.
“Bennett, you’re beautiful,” I whispered against his lips.
Then I tugged his fingers away from my face and down to his sides. I watched as he balled his fists,
but he kept his hands there.
I looked into his eyes. “Can I touch you?”
His response came out in a muffled pant.
I traced my thumb over his silky tip and watched how his chest heaved and his eyes glazed over.
When my fingers grasped the length of him the breath caught in the back of his throat. He felt firm and
smooth in my steady hands.
Bennett knotted his fingers in my hair and then skimmed them along my neckline. I relished every
touch, every breath, every time he whispered my name.
I pulled his shorts all the way down his legs, and he stepped out of them. “Get in the shower.”
Without hesitation he moved backward, crossing over the threshold of the door, and then under the
stream of water. I watched as it cascaded off his shoulders and beaded down his chest. I reached for the
hotel soap, unwrapping it and running it under the water stream, despite my arms getting wet. I lathered
up and then washed the front of him—his neck, his chest, his stomach. When my fingers traced down
below to his dark and curly hair, he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. My fingers were sufficiently
soapy, and when I worked my hand up and down the length of him, he braced the shower wall. “Jesus,
Avery.”
As I moved my fingers fast, and then
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