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Lennon’s tongue and the little moan she let out when I kissed her at the courthouse.

I wonder what she’s going to do when I kiss her again—if she’ll welcome it, or if she’ll tense up because the first kiss made her uncomfortable.

No. There’s no way she was uncomfortable with that kiss, not with the way her eyes glazed over and the look of heat that followed. Still, next time, I want to hear her say she wants it.

My desire grows hotter as I think about what it’s going to feel like sleeping next to her, seeing her face in the morning, holding her to me if she lets me.

What if I grazed her hip with my hand, dipping lower around her stomach and down to the juncture between her legs?

What kind of noises would she make then?

My orgasm builds as I think about touching her, sliding my fingers inside her, her back arching off the bed.

The first spurt of cum leaves my body as I stifle my groan with my other hand. Pulling on my length, I eagerly welcome each tremor, knowing this release will help me sleep better later when Lennon is curled up next to me.

When the pleasure finally subsides, I do one last rinse and then shut the water off, hoping like hell that Lennon didn’t suspect what I was doing or hear me.

I wrap my towel around my waist and open the door, steam billowing out behind me, but I run straight into Lennon as I step out.

“Oh!” she exclaims.

“Shit.”

She takes a step back, and her eyes dip down my torso, studying my physique intently as she bites her bottom lip.

Fuck, I wonder if she does that when she comes?

“Lennon…”

Her eyes snap up to mine. “Yeah? Sorry. I just…”

“I didn’t mean to run into you,” I cut her off, holding the towel around my waist. “I’m just not used to having anyone else here for me to run into.”

“I’m fine. I was heading out to grab the duffel bag from the living room.” She motions over toward the door.

Nodding, I wait for her to leave before pushing a hand through my soaking wet hair. Moving toward my dresser, I grab a pair of boxer briefs and cotton shorts, sliding them on as fast as I can before Lennon returns.

She enters the room again, her eyes lingering on my chest once more before she snaps out of it and returns to the closet.

Is she staring because it’s me and she’s uncomfortable, or does she like what she sees?

Needing some space after yet another awkward encounter, I make my way into the main part of the house, sliding on a shirt while I amble down the hall before pouring myself a glass of water and doing the same for Lennon, bringing it back to her.

“Thought you could use this,” I say, handing her the glass.

“Thank you.” She takes a sip and places it on an empty shelf. “I’m almost done in here, but then I was thinking of showering.”

“Of course. Make yourself at home. I’m just gonna watch some TV.”

“Sounds good.”

I return to the living room, flipping on the TV and settling into the couch. Luckily, the Nashville Lightning hockey game is on, providing the perfect distraction. In fact, I’m completely oblivious to how much time has passed when Lennon emerges from our room, freshly showered and wearing an oversized T-shirt with cotton shorts underneath.

Fuck, she looks beautiful.

Lennon has always been naturally beautiful, but seeing her like this in my house makes all of these feelings I thought I’d buried return to the surface.

I think you jacking off to the thought of her in the shower made that abundantly clear, Easton.