The door cracked open and Michael, still fully clothed except his shoes, peered out, then stepped into the shower to make room for the door to swing open.
Suddenly, what had been all bravado turned into something just north of timid when she looked straight into his eyes.
“So, um…” She cleared her throat and he arched an eyebrow. “Well, you just made an offer and I’d really like to see what I’d be getting in the bargain.”
Dimples appeared and he slid his jacket off and tossed it past her to the bed. “The luggage closet wasn’t sufficient for you?”
She rolled onto the balls of her feet and back down, holding tight to the towel. “Well, I didn’t really get to see anything.”
“So, you want to inspect the goods to determine if they’re to your satisfaction.”
“I bet you do that in your antique business all the time. And hey, you’ve checked me out plenty while I work out.”
He methodically removed his cufflinks and placed them in the pocket of his suit hanging on the door. “Please tell me I will not have to perform Pilates for your inspection.” She laughed and accidentally snorted, which caused his grin to widen. “I would absolutely do that if that’s what it took, Mia.”
Without any rush, he unbuttoned his shirt as if he were simply going through his regular routine, rather than driving her crazy. When he handed her his shirt, it was all she could do to not raise it to her nose to breathe in the starch and cologne scent so specifically him, but forgot all about it when he turned to face her, giving her an eyeful of toned chest and abs. All those workouts paid off. He wasn’t bulky, but the definition was certainly there. Efficiency with no waste. And lots of power, as she’d discovered in the luggage closet. She pitched his shirt onto his jacket on the bed and resisted the urge to fan herself, stopping short when she met his eyes again.
“This is the point,” he said, rubbing his palm over the bulge in his pants, “when you decide whether you want to participate, or simply remain an observer.” He loosened the buckle on his belt and slid it out of the loops, and her mouth watered. “I find in dealing with antiquities and things of value, observation is insufficient, and I actually need to hold the object in my hand…” He rolled the belt into a neat coil and placed it on top of the toilet tank, “…or make a physical connection with it somehow, in order to really appreciate it.”
Oh, she appreciated it all right. And certainly wanted a physical connection with it—her whole body thrummed to life at the mere thought. Still, she loved watching him in action, and couldn’t bring herself to interrupt what was possibly the sexiest undressing she’d ever imagined. Trying to look nonchalant, she leaned against the doorframe, glad she didn’t miss it entirely and land on her butt.
The dimples appeared again and his hands went to the button on his pants, popping it open easily and then lowering the zipper with painful, deliberate slowness.
She almost growled in frustration at yet another layer—those blasted black boxer briefs. He let the pants drop, and he stepped out of them, casually picking them up and beginning to fold them.
She snatched them out of his hands and tossed them to the bed before he finished, and he chuckled. “You sure you don’t want to help?”
“Positive.”
And then he did the most unfair thing ever: he stepped into the shower and closed the curtain, then pitched his underwear over the top, where they landed right at her feet.
“You cheated!” she said, fighting back a laugh.
“I never cheat,” was his reply as a wisp of steam crept over the top of the curtain. “I wrote the rule book in this particular instance. You chose to be but a mere observer, remember?” He poked his head around the curtain, dimples flashing. “But you could always up your status to participant and complete the inspection.” He winked and disappeared behind the curtain again.
She closed her eyes and imagined him behind that curtain, all naked and hard and hot with water running down those abs. And then she thought of the luggage closet and the power in his body as he thrust into her, his complete and nearly savage loss of control until he reined himself in at the end, ejaculating silently. She wanted to hear him yell. More specifically, she wanted to hear him yell her name. Her towel joined his underwear on the floor and she pulled the curtain aside.
…
Michael could never be completely certain what Mia would do, but knowing her as he did, he wasn’t surprised when she yanked the curtain aside and stepped into the shower with him, gloriously naked.
Her eyes immediately dropped to his erection and widened, then she raised her gaze to his.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
“You are very sure of yourself.”
“Should I not be?”