Page 48 of Pursuing Desire

There’s no excuse for what I did. I should come clean and tell him and admit everything. If there were any decency left in me, that’s what I would do. An apology for invading his privacy is the least I owe him.

But am I going to do it? Not a chance in hell.

Should I also admit to him how badly I was turned on and that watching him was one of the most thrilling, intense, and exciting moments of my life?

That’s also a resounding no.

Somehow, I need to make myself go back into that room and pretend everything is totally normal. I have no idea how the hell I’m going to pull it off. I’m sure guilt and a healthy dose of lust is written all over my face. Yep, I’m a total perv.

Standing outside the room isn’t going to get me anywhere. I’ve given him a good thirty minutes to finish up his shower, so I might as well get this over with, even if it feels like I’m walking toward my doom.

When I enter, Dax is sitting in one of the upholstered chairs. He looks up from his laptop as I walk in.

“There you are,” he says. “I tried texting you after my shower to see if you wanted to meet up, but you didn’t answer. Everything okay?”

I busy myself by taking off my shoes and doing my best to avoid eye contact. I can’t look him in the face. “Yeah, sorry. I just went for a walk along the beach. Lost track of time. I would’ve tried to call you, but I don’t think my cell service is good out there,” I mumble.

Now that I’m at the scene of the crime, I can’t get the vision of his naked body out of my mind. If I don’t pull myself together, he’s going to wonder what’s wrong with me. I have to act normal when everything inside of me tells me to dive for the covers and hide forever.

Yeah, sure. That wouldn’t send off warning bells.

I sneak a look at Dax, and I’m relieved to see he looks completely normal, his usual self. If he knew what I did, he’d have said something by now. Dax isn’t one to keep that kind of thing to himself.

“No worries. It’s almost dinner time. We’re supposed to have room service brought to us. They called for our order a few minutes ago. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and ordered us a couple of dishes the concierge recommended. If that doesn’t work for you, I’m happy to call and get you whatever you want.”

I force a smile on my face. “That works perfectly. I’m just going to jump in the sh . . .” I clear my throat nervously. “Shower,” I finish lamely. I feel my face heat at the word.

Dax flashes a smile full of charm. “That’s a great idea. I already took mine, and I gotta tell you, I’m like a new man. It’s amazing how completely refreshed that shower made me feel.”

I take a step back and come close to fumbling on my own feet.

Dax tilts his head to the side. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little unsteady. I hope you aren’t coming down with something.”

“I . . . I’m fine. That walk just wore me out,” I stammer.

His mouth curls up suspiciously. “Okay. Well then, enjoy that shower.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. With a quick nod, I turn and almost run to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and then grab a towel, bunch it up, and scream into it. I don’t even care if he hears.

Enjoy that shower. If he only knew how I saw him enjoy his shower.

I shake my head even though no one is here to see me. There’s no way he saw me. I’m in the clear; however, the thought of being caught has me scared straight. I’ll never play peek-a-boo with a naked man in the shower again.

My clothes drop to the floor, and I step into the warm water. It takes about two seconds for me to realize that this was a terrible idea. This is the very shower I’ve been trying to forget. Did I really think this would be relaxing? Then again, relaxing wasn’t my goal. Escaping was. I’d do anything to get away from those penetrating eyes. If I had stayed much longer, I’d have blurted out everything. I suck at subterfuge.

I grab the bar of soap, the same soap Dax used. As I lather up the washcloth, vivid images flash through my brain. His hands, his chest, his ass. Everything. I see everything.

I’m soooo in trouble.

I run the washcloth down my body, taking the same path he took. My hands glide over my shoulders, down my arms, up and down my chest, and then lower.

Abruptly, I shake my head for a reset. What the hell am I doing? He’s sitting out there waiting for me. And I’m in here fantasizing over him. What is wrong with me?

I finish my shower quickly and throw the washcloth over the metal bar. When I step out, I reach for one of the large plush white towels and wrap it tightly around my body.

And that’s when it hits me.

I never grabbed clean clothes when I ran for the bathroom like a scaredy cat. I have a sudden and overwhelming desire to bang my head against the wall. I can’t just walk out there and get clean clothes.