I braced my hands on the tile and hung my head under the ruthless water. My chest heaved, because all it took was a few scattered thoughts of Remi and all the blood rushed straight between my legs.
Prying my eyes open, I stared down at my hard-on.
The last time I’d thought with that stupid prick was in the bar. How was I supposed to resist her? She was nothing like I’d been expecting, and it was in the genuine rambling nerves, the big eyes, and the delicious curves of her body that desire had knocked me breathless before I knew what was happening.
I clenched my teeth and took myself in hand, rolling my forehead on the cool tile while I let my thoughts drift.
Her breast in my hand—skin warm and soft and big enough that I wouldn’t be able to take the whole thing in my mouth.
A groan tore from my chest, my hand working in slow, steady strokes. I imagined her writhing under me while my brain conjured the taste of her, the feel of her flesh against my tongue and teeth and lips.
Remi naked, lush curves and greedy hands.
Remi’s red hair wound between my fingers as I gripped it in a fist and took her from behind.
Remi on top of me, rolling her hips like she had on the dance floor.
Remi underneath me, crying out into my ear while I worked my hips between hers.
“Fuck,” I bit out, hand working faster.
Remi’s face, her big eyes staring up at me, brow pinched as she chased her release.
Tight. She’d be tight. She’d fucking suffocate me, wouldn’t she?
I wanted it. I wanted to see the play of it across her face. She showed everything on her face.
Her happiness. Her stress. Her anger.
Her shame.
My hand slowed.
Remi’s big eyes as she stared up at me on the dance floor. Horrified. Embarrassed. Cheeks flushed with shame.
“Fuck,” I said again, tearing my hand away and slamming my fist down on the tile.
With my heart racing, my balls screaming because I was on the edge of release, I cranked the shower handle to cold and stood there until my skin pebbled with goose bumps.
The ghost of my unfulfilled orgasm left an ache behind, and I strode out of the shower, letting the pain remind me how thoroughly I’d fucked up my chance to see any of those sides of her.
I didn’t deserve it.
Didn’t deserve her.
Chapter Nine
Remi
The list of reasons why I didn’t sleep well at night was long, a constantly rotating battle for what was currently stressing me out the most: raising a preteen on my own, my aging grandfather who needed to move in with me because he was stubborn and ornery and we couldn’t afford for him to go anywhere else, the shelter. But the most frequent visitor at the top ofthatlist was—wait for it—my to-do list.
Sometimes I lay in bed and thought about the bullet points that I hadn’t checked off.
Had I showered? Maybe.
Shaved my legs? Don’t be ridiculous.
Gavin’s laundry was done but definitely not put away. Which was fine, because laundry was a morally neutral task. Getting it done didn’t magically make me a better person. But God, the way it piled up made me crazy.