Page 31 of All In

Wildly embarrassing. Wildly inappropriate. But hey, I guess if your dick can’t get hard for your hot husband, who can it get hard for?

My stomach flips. Okay. Yes. He’s my husband. We don’t have to freak out about it.

The hands on my back leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Almost fucking done. Thank God.

“Alright, you gentlemen can take a few minutes to relax and then get dressed,” Lita says.

I hum in acknowledgment, and a few seconds later, the door closes behind them with a soft snick.

“How are you feeling?” Gray asks. He sounds half drunk, and I’m glad at least one of us got some relaxation out of this.

How do I answer that? I feel like I’m losing my mind a bit. I’m feeling pent up and annoyed with myself and a little confused. And like I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to get off this bed.

“Uh… I’m okay.”

“Ready for that nap?”

I can hear a slight smile in Grayson’s voice, and it makes me smile too. I can’t help it. Even with my misbehaving dick, I still love hearing him happy. “You betcha.”

Ew. Why did I say that?

Grayson shifts, and I turn my head in his direction. Wrong choice. Bad choice.

He’s working on standing up, his back to me. The oil is still clinging to his skin, his muscles bunching as he pushes to his feet. Alright. No. Enough of that. I whip my head the other way quickly.

With any luck, he won’t realize I was staring. With any luck, I’ll be able to keep control of myself and not look at him.

I can hear him moving around, his clothes rustling, and then his footsteps growing closer. A second later, he’s kneeling in front of me with a lazy smile stretching his lips. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t already asleep.” I force a laugh, but it sounds fake. Perfect. Grayson’s eyebrows draw together. “You alright?”

I nod. “Please move so I can get dressed.”

His eyes widen. “Right. Of course.”

Sitting up carefully, I keep the drape, well… draped over my lap. With my hands over my cock too. Just to be safe.

This is fucking ridiculous. I’m twenty-five years old. I should have better control of my damn dick by now.

Apparently I don’t. “Fucking whore,” I mumble under my breath.

“What?” Gray asks.

I squeeze my eyes closed, my face burning hot. “Nothing. Are you looking at me?”

“Uh, no. My back is toward you.”

Small mercies. I stand up, keeping my back to Gray’s voice—a man can never be too cautious—and quickly step into my briefs and jeans. When my dick is tucked into my waistband and mostly hidden, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Once my shirt is on and I’m fully dressed, I turn around. Gray is standing with his back to me, his head tilted as he studies the wall like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

He turns around and grins again. I nearly scoff. I’m glad at least one of us is enjoying this. I mean… I’m enjoying it. But for all the wrong reasons, I think. Ugh. The worst best friend husband ever.

“I am.”

Gray reaches for my hand again, and I reluctantly take it. It’s not that I don’t want to hold his hand. It’s just that I’m pretty sure touching his skin in any capacity isn’t going to help my situation at all.

The entire way back to the hotel, Gray talks my ear off, and I’m so ready to put a little distance between us while we nap that it’s not until we’re more than halfway back that I remember we only have one fucking bed.