Hiding, huh? Fine. She could be the finder in this little game.
Doing her best impression of a stealthy cat burglar, she tiptoed past the opaque glass brick half wall and into Sawyer’s sitting room. A love seat and two oversize chairs—all black, of course—sat facing the window wall. There wasn’t a single personal item in view, unless you counted the Wall Street Journal, The Economist, or The Singapore Times arranged on the—glass, of course—coffee table as personal. The rest of the room was as empty as a bar two hours after last call.
She glanced up at the final barrier. A second glass brick wall. Unlike the other, this one went all the way up to the high ceiling and all the way across the width of the room, a blocky opening in place of an actual door. It didn’t take three guesses to figure out what was beyond it. Sawyer’s bedroom.
There went the fizzy crackle pop in her belly again.
“You’re not getting out of this, Mr. Stuffikins, so get your butt out of bed.”
She held her breath, waiting for the rustling of sheets, which were probably black, or the telltale sound of bare feet hitting the floor. Neither ever came.
Okay, this was just ridiculous.
She marched through the double-door sized opening and stopped dead in her tracks. A massive bed, big enough for an orgy, dominated the space. The sheets—red, smooth and tangled—were rumpled but tossed to the side revealing…an empty bed. No matter how long she stared—and imagined—Sawyer wasn’t there.
The big chicken must have run out while she was in the shower.
Maybe it was the word shower that drew her attention. Maybe it was a sound she’d only heard subconsciously. Whatever it was, she turned to the left and started walking toward the one real door in the entire room. It wasn’t closed. It stood half open. So it wasn’t like she was exactly spying when she peeked through the opening.
“Mierda,” she said, the exclamation a soft sigh of longing.
She really should have shaved her legs yesterday morning.
Sawyer stood in a replica of the shower she’d used earlier. Water from the four nozzles rained over his muscular form and splashed onto the glass shower wall as he stood under the spray with his back to her. Clover’s imagination hadn’t done the man justice. Not even close. He was all tightly bundled muscles, from his thick forearms to the hard curve of his thighs to his high, round ass that could get him a ton of work in gay porn calendars. Seriously.
“Saya boleh mati gembira,” she groaned under her breath. Of course, if the fates were kind—or women—she wouldn’t be dying happy until she got to touch her fill.
It wasn’t just the past six months of her battery-operated boyfriend that had her this tuned up for actual physical touch, it was Sawyer. Temptation didn’t even begin to cover it.
He started to turn. Clover had just enough brain power left to dash back so her body was hidden behind the doorframe.
“Fuck, Clover,” Sawyer groaned. “That’s it. Just like that.”
Heat burned her cheeks.
“Yeah, take it all the way.”
Oh God. He wasn’t.
Sawyer let out a lusty groan.
Oh. My. God. He was.
She needed to walk away. Right the fuck now. Her feet didn’t move, but her waist did—it had to be some kind of body possession event—and she twisted until she could get a look inside the bathroom. She drank in the profile view of him. He had one palm planted against the wall and the other hand stroking his hard cock. She knew personally that his hands were big, but they managed to look a little on the small side as he glided it up and down his shaft.
It was wrong to watch, but Clover couldn’t tear her gaze away. The way his body tightened with each flick of his wrist excited her, turned her on, and teased every one of her senses. He was close. The fingers on his hand pressed to the shower wall curled as if he could claw his way through the tile. His other hand was a blur of motion. His spine snapped straight.
“Fuck, Clover,” he ground out the words as he came hard against the shower wall.
She couldn’t breathe. That was—without a doubt—the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“You know, Clover,” Sawyer said as he stepped under the overhead shower spray and let the water run down his chest. “A real fiancée would have joined me instead of just lurking in the doorway and watching.”
Embarrassed and surprised, she spun around and jerked back hard enough that she hit the back of her head against the wall. Yay. Maybe that would knock some sense into her.
“Pervert,” she muttered to herself, accepting the pronouncement as being completely true about herself at the moment…and really anytime she was around him.
Even from the relative safety of the other side of the bathroom wall where she couldn’t see his wet, naked body, the man turned her self-control to lime Jell-O and her body into a hot, horny bundle of nerves and needs. She was pathetic.
What else was she not? Engaged.
“I’m not a real fiancée,” she said with all the dignity she could muster at the moment.
“What about your declaration last night to just have a little fun?”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.” No, she was sure it was not a good idea.
Sawyer made her lose her bearings. If she wasn’t careful, she’d wake up and find herself eating apple pie just because it was his favorite and then their time would be up and she’d be brokenheartedly eating apple pie alone in Australia.
“Really? I remember someone telling me not that long ago that letting things get messy was half the fun,” he said, throwing her own words back at her as he turned the shower off. “I’ll be ready in ten.”
An image of his hand stroking himself flashed in her mind. Her core clenched and she forced herself to look at his mess of a bed instead of turning and looking back inside the bathroom. “That fast?”
There were a few beats of silence before Sawyer said with a knowing laugh in his voice, “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going to the flea market.”
Her blood must have been rushing too loudly in her ears because she hadn’t heard the shower door open. It was as if Sawyer had just suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorway, water droplets clinging to his shoulders and a black towel slung low across his hips.
Now that she knew exactly what was under that towel, she’d have thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to see him like that. But it was. Oh God, it was.
She locked her focus back on his bed. Bad idea! She dropped her gaze to the floor. “You’re just trying to get out of going.”
“I just need to get dressed, and then I’ll be all ready.” He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she couldn’t help but take in his handsome face and cocky grin. “Unless you want me to stay like this.”