Sunshine.
Squinting, I glance across the dining room. More sunshine from that side. No clouds. No rain.
My pulse speeds up. Sitting upright, I peer at the back door, memories from last week playing through my mind.
The outdoor shower.
My heart pounds a little harder. Yet, not with fear like last time.
Standing, I drop my blanket and walk toward the door. I don’t bother with my bat or even my sunglasses. I don’t cower or creep. Instead, I pull the door open and walk outside.
A pair of worn boots scattered on the patio next to my swing catch my attention. My heart pounds in my chest. I take another step. A green T-shirt. The same green shirt from last night and this morning. Brendan’s boots and shirt. Heat courses through my body as my feet move at a steady pace.
The sensual aroma of sandalwood and jasmine from my body wash mixes with the salty air. Anticipation unfurls in my core.
Deja vu ripples over my heated skin as I round the teak, privacy fence. It’s the same as last time. The same, yet so different.Like a surreal dream, I keep walking, curiosity and need controlling all of my movements.
This time, I hold my head high. My steps don’t waver. My body sings with awareness as the pitter-patter of the shower draws closer.
Another step. One more turn.
My heart thunders inside my chest, heavy beats in sync with the water threaten to rip the organ right out of my chest. Following the final striptease of discarded garments, I round the bend and freeze.
Steam pours from the outdoor, rain shower head, blanketing the area with its thick cover. Water cascades down in a thick torrent. Still it does nothing to obscure the view in front of me.
Strong calves give way to thick thighs. Toned ass cheeks put all the models I’ve spent hundreds of hours staring at to shame. His narrow waist broadens to huge, muscular shoulders. His back ripples, muscles flexing under the hot spray in a display that could rival any professional body builder.
Squeezing my thighs together, I unabashedly watch, transfixed by the flexing contours of his sculpted body. With his neck angled low, his chin tucks into his chest, hiding his face. Still, I watch his back. I lick my lips as countless drops roll across the valleys and crests of his muscular physique.
The last remnants of soapy suds swirl down the drain, the syrupy air still thick with the luxurious aroma. Goosebumps pebble on my arms beneath my oversized shirt. I swallow, waiting, watching. The water stays on. His shoulder continues to flex.
His arm moves up and down, its movements repeating over and over. A groan leaves his hidden lips.
A whimper escapes my lips at the realization of what he’s doing.
His head jerks up.
I don’t move or run away.
His entire body turns.
My knees give way. I lose my balance, tumbling back into the wall as I struggle to stay upright.
Facing me, he doesn’t stop. His movements never sway. Gripping his cock, he slides his hand up and down his hard length in a slow rhythm. His bicep pulses with each steady stroke. Up and down. I bite my lip, holding in a moan.Up and down.
Starting at my toes, his eyes make a slow sweep of my body while he continues to stroke himself.It’s more intimate than this morning in his truck. The visual caress leaves me more exposed, my skin more heated, as he takes in every inch of my body.
Swallowing, my eyes roam his body in turn. Thick and long, he’s an exact replica of his brother. Every inch nearly identical, except nothing about the man standing naked before me screams Breckin.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hide or cover himself up. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he continues his rhythm. My breath comes in short bursts. He takes one calculated step toward me. My heart thunders so hard I’m certain he can hear it over the shower.
Another step. The air grows even hotter between us. My pulse pounds so heavily between my ears, it drowns out all other sounds.
Droplets of water slide down his toned arms and washboard chest as he steps out of the shower and makes his way toward me. A bead of moisture trails down my thigh, my lace thong already soaked.
Stopping an inch in front of me, he continues to stroke his hard cock as he towers over me. My chest heaves, each breath labored, matching the rise and fall of his broad torso.
He leans down. His nose caresses the side of my face as he buries it in my hair.