Page 83 of The Score

Chapter 27

Bear

The return to Seattle takes us right back to a busy schedule. Pen drives her parents around for a hundred appointments, while I spend those hours at the Thunderdome gym. I enjoy some time with my friends there, train, then go back home to spend time with Pen and her parents.

Today, instead of showering at TD after training like I usually do, I came straight home. Tonight is the championship ring gala, and it changed the schedule we've fallen into. I'm not sure when Pen is coming into our room to get ready, but my plan is to be almost done by the time she comes in. Just in case.

But we're running late, each caught up on another busy day. With clear efficiency, I lather soap all over, then wash my hair and beard. I sigh. Several bottles of the products she uses stand mixed with mine.

The ensuite bathroom is modern and designed for a couple. The walk-in shower is hidden behind a wall, so there is no need for glass. It boasts two shower heads, jets, and a stone bench. There's a long alcove on the wall as well, inwhich our products wait. Mixed together, so casual, like Pen and I lived together permanently.

My heart pumps a couple extra beats at the thought, and doubles its pace when her voice reaches me from across the wall.

"Don't mind me! I just need to do something quick."

My hands slow down as I rub suds onto my chest. "Hello, Pen."

I don't know what else to say. She can't see me, here behind the wall in the shower, but it still feels like an intimate moment somehow.

I can imagine it. She stands on the other side of the partition, where a side-to-side mirror, stone countertop, and two sinks give the bathroom its working space. In my mind, Pen gets busy doing something that has to do with getting ready for the gala, while I'm on my side under the water. It's a couple-like vision.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude," she says. "But I don't want to be late. I promise I won't spy on you."

I purse my lips. "Don't worry about it."

My eyes roam over the second set of jets and rain shower next to me, empty at the moment. In another life, my wife could take a shower right next to me, on a night like this. As it is, my actual wife remains on the other side of the wall, and I can't decide what to do about it this time.

Especially when my eyes land on the large frosted window at the other end of the shower. It is strategically placed to provide plenty of sunlight during the day. Now in the evening, with the pot lights turned on inside, reflections come to life on the glass. My hands still. I had never thought to check, but now that she's over there and I'm over here…

I can see her reflection on the glass. It's distorted, hazy, but there. I'm not an expert in the science of light and refraction, but I think if she were to look at the glass, she could see me too. Not clearly, but she could.

Fuck. If she were here next to me, with water falling down her skin, I'd help her wash her hair. I'd lather soap in my hands, and offer to help her cover the ground of her skin.

We'd be late to the party, for sure.

I gulp. The image doesn't last too long in my head before it has an effect down south. I stare at my cock with a frown.

Do not. Not now.

It's been a struggle, but I haven't jerked off yet, for the same reasons I didn't on our wedding night. If I'm the King of Blue Balls these days, it is to cross no lines, not even in my mind. Just call me Blue Balls Bear and let me live. I'm already barely hanging on by a thread.

Pen and I have been sharing a bedroom since her parents arrived. Sure, we wake up in each others' arms every time, but I manage to hide my hard-ons. No grinding of late. As soon as the alarm goes off, she grumbles about her plans for the day, then we laugh about something, and get going.

It makes it easier when I have to tell myself over and over that if things changed after our wedding, if I felt so much during our kiss, it was due to the immense affection I have for Pen. It was a peak friendship moment, that's all. My current sexual frustrations have nothing to do with any of it.

A few more days, and I might convince myself. If my chest aches when I think of it, it stands to reason it's like the pain that comes from too much exercise. My heart hasn't gotten a workout like that in recent years, simple as that.

Tonight? Naked in the shower, with Pen doing who knows what on the other side of the wall? Suddenly it gets harder— pun intended— to manage.

"I'm going to admit something to you," Pen says.

I grab the shower handle and ruthlessly set it to almost freezing. When cold water washes over me, I hiss.

"You okay?" she asks.

"What are you about to admit to me, and why does it sound like a warning?"

I rinse my hair and body in frigid water, and it helps. At least, this way I can blame my fast heartbeat on something new.