Page 57 of Unbound

Fuck. What am I doing? Besides trying to figure out how to recover from spending the night in Walker McKinley’s bed.

After he got me off so well I couldn’t physically move.

Apparently he got me off well enough to also fry my brain, because I can’t think of any words to explain what I’m hoping to accomplish right now. I don’t feel like I’m doing a walk of shame, necessarily. But I do feel very awkward. And I know a thing or two about feeling awkward—it’s the bulk of my existence.

Walker pats the bed next to where he’s still stretched out, bare chest on full display. “Why don’t you take those panties back off and come over here?”

It doesn’t sound so much like a request as it does a demand.

And isn’t that what I wanted? For Walker to focus on me the way I’ve been focused on him?

I thought so. Then I discovered how fucking intense Walker’s focus can be, and I’m not sure I’m cut out to navigate that sort of scenario. Especially if I’m going to be expected to do anything besides lie around waiting for him to service me.

I can’t do that, no matter how very much I’d like to. I have to figure out what happened to my dad. What happened to his mom. How it all connects. Because I’m becoming more and more convinced it does. That his loss and mine are intertwined.

“I need to get to work.” The argument is weak. I am weak. After spending months and months having no trouble focusing on solving the mystery of my past, I’m embarrassingly easily distracted by the promise of another orgasm.

“Then you should stop wasting time. The sooner you come over here, the sooner I’ll be done with you and you can get on with your day.”

Walker’s plan does make sense.

But my constantly spinning brain has identified another problem. This one too significant to get past.

“I need a shower.” At this point it’s been over twenty-four hours since my last scrub, and there’s no telling what’s happening down there right now. Everything could be perfectly fine, or it could be a total train wreck.

Vulvas are unpredictable like that.

“Perfect.” Walker is off the bed in a flash, moving so fast, I take a step back because I’m not really sure where he’s going. “We can kill two birds with one stone.”

Before I can brace, he’s bent in front of me, shoulder against my belly as he hefts me up and over, leaving me dangling upside down with my hair in my face as he strides across the large room.

I swipe at my matted strands, all the blood rushing to my brain. “What are you doing?”

“We’re taking a shower, just like you requested.”

Walker barely pauses to flip on a light as we enter the bathroom. The tile on the floor is sleek and black, but the rich wood of the vanity keeps it from feeling cold. The deep blue-gray shade on the walls is somehow both pretty and masculine at the same time, making the space just as beautiful as the rest of the house. I’m sure it probably looks even better right side up.

One swift motion has Walker setting me on my feet, hands coming to my hips to keep me steady as dots dance in front of my eyes. Being hauled around by a big strong man has been one of many fantasies for a long time. Turns out it’s way better in theory than in practice.

“I could have walked in here myself.” I blink hard a few times, hoping that will help me acclimate. “Moving me bodily was not necessary.”

“You weren’t moving fast enough.” Walker keeps one hand on me as he reaches around a glass partition into a large, stone-lined shower, switching on the water. “You’re the one who’s eager to get to work. I’m just giving you what you want.”

Without warning, he drops the pajama pants he’s wearing to the floor, giving me my first glimpse of his fully nude form.

Like the lecher I am, all my attention locks onto his dick. If I hadn’t been so thrown off by waking up in his bed—and if he hadn’t so quickly requested a repeat of last night’s adventure—my brain likely would’ve connected the dots that taking a shower with Walker would require both of us being naked at the same time. Then I probably would have run in here at the speed of light.

Because holy mother of God.

“See something you like?” Walker grips the hard line of his dick, fisting it from base to tip as I watch, fully invested in the sight before me.

“Yuh-huh.”

I’m not sure if words fail me or if it’s my brain letting me down. Either way, I’ve got nothing coherent to offer him. I’m not entirely sure how we even got here, but I’m not questioning it. Especially not until I see where this is going to lead.

I admit, last night I was a little… perturbed. Never in my life have I met a man who can identify the second right before climax, let alone purposefully bring me there over and over again with the kind of precision that would impress a marksman.

Ten out of ten. No notes.