Billy swallowed thickly against the wave of white-hot lust that slammed into him. His cock ached and his ears strained. Because Shayna was apparently watching porn.
Just a few hours after they’d made out. When she’d made it clear she wanted more. And he’d turned her down.
And because Billy had seen Shayna naked and seen her aroused, he could too fucking easily imagine what she might look like right now. Laid out on her bed much as she’d been plastered against the wall. Pink nipples erect and those red-brown curls between her legs wet as her hand worked at her clit.
He released a harsh breath and fisted his hands against the urge to touch himself. Or knock. Or open the door.
He willed himself to leave, but his feet were suddenly cemented to the floor. And then finally he forced himself to step away—just like he had before.
The floor creaked under his foot, just the littlest bit.
Nearly holding his breath, Billy froze. Shayna’s room went quiet.
Son of a fuck.
Billy Parrish had jumped out of perfectly good airplanes and faced down terrorists who wanted nothing more than to see him dead, but at that moment, the idea that Shayna might find him standing there had a really goddamned high pucker factor. Because whether she was outraged that he was invading her privacy or came at him with more of that invitation in her eyes and on her lips, it would be bad.
So he held still. And prayed that door did not open.
After a few seconds, the sounds started again, although softer now, and Billy high-tailed it out of that hallway and closed himself inside his room like his life depended on it.
On a harsh exhale, he thunked his head against the molding next to his door.
Which did nothing to ratchet down his arousal. Or keep him from ripping open his button-fly. Or from taking the aching length of his cock in hand.
Billy leaned his other forearm against his door, rested his head against it, and gave his erection one tight stroke up and down.
His teeth clenched against how fucking good it felt.
And as his eyes fell closed on the next stroke, he told himself not to do it—not to picture it. But that was the thing about your brain. Trying not to think about something was the surest way to make sure it was all you could think about.
Which was why Shayna Curtis was the only goddamned thing he could see.
And finally he couldn’t do anything but give in to the urgent need. He jacked himself on tight, demanding, almost punishing strokes. Choking his root to hold back the orgasm that already threatened. Gritting his teeth every time his palm twisted around the fat head of his dick. Thrusting his hips forward so that he was fucking his hand.
It might’ve been perverted that he was so damn turned on by the knowledge that she was masturbating at the other end of the hallway. And without question it was a million per cent inappropriate that he was getting himself off on that fact.
But Jesus fucking Christ, it was the hottest thing he’d experienced in a long-ass time.
And that was no slight whatsoever to the other partners he’d had. Billy didn’t need sex to mean something to have a helluva good time—and to make sure his lovers did, too. But there was just something about knowing that they were both so turned on by what’d happened earlier that they had to come.
Was she picturing him, too?
The question shot sensation down his spine and into his balls.
And then he imagined himself leaning against her door instead of his own, and his orgasm nailed him in the back and shot into his hand and against the door. On a strangled shout, Billy stroked his cock through it, making a mess of himself and the door and the fly of his jeans. But all of that was really damn hard to care about when his head went spinny and his heart threatened to beat the fuck out of his chest.
Jesus.
Jesus fucknugget.
Yes, Shayna, for fucking sure.
Still braced against the door, Billy blew out a long, shuddering breath and admitted the obvious. “This woman is so far under my fucking skin.”
He wasn’t sure how that had happened in a few days’ time, but there wasn’t any question about it. That much was clear.
And if he wanted to do right by her and by the best friend who’d asked him to take care of her, Billy was going to have to steer clear of her until he got his head screwed on tight again. Both of them.