Chapter 30

He rubbed a towel over the top of his head, letting his slim, toned body air dry. Shower spray beaded in the scant tufts of hair on his chest, glistened on his arms and legs. Water ran down chiseled muscles to the V of his crotch, where a fistful of black curls coiled above his heavy dick. I caught a glimpse of his face, nothing more, then couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from that thick, ruddy, semi-erect cock.

Sweet Jesus. My day just got a whole hellof a lot better.

A faint smile crossed his face. He looked a good ten years younger than myself, college-aged, most likely. The girl’s boyfriend, I guessed. The bathroom door now stood open, steam wafting into the hall, but in the foggy mirror behind him, I didn’t see anyone else in the room. So she’d gone out, to work or school, left him behind, and it had been him I heard singing earlier. In the shower. Lathering up…my gaze trailed down again, hungry, to the dick between his legs.

I cleared my throat, trying to think of something to say. I had wanted to say something earlier, when I heard the shower turn off. I’d been going to say…what, exactly? I couldn’t remember.

He let me get a good look, unashamed of his nudity. As he continued to towel off his hair, he didn’t bother covering himself. That smile turned into a smirk and he struck a pose, one hip jutting out to lean against the door frame. The movement made his wrinkled balls swing to the left and did delicious things deep in my lower belly. Nonchalant, he asked, “Who are you?”

I cleared my throat again. “Maintenance,” I croaked. That was what I had wanted to say, and to prove it, I repeated it, adding, “Just here to fix the air.”

“Maintenance,” he echoed. When I nodded, he asked, “Your parents named you that?”

“What?” I tore my gaze from his crotch and found him grinning at me. God, he was hot, and it had nothing to do with the steam still rising from the room behind him, either. “No, I’m just here—”

“To fix the air,” he finished, interrupting me. “So you said. I didn’t hear you knock.”

“You were in the shower.” The image that came to mind of his naked body drenched in water, hands rubbing suds along hard flesh, made my knees weak. “I knocked a few times. I’m not surprised you couldn’t hear, what with the water and the fan and the radio…”

He laughed, a boyish sound that only added to his appeal. “Nah, man. That was me. You ever hear the joke about how ninety-five percent of guys like to jerk off in the shower?”

I shook my head, my throat dry with lust. Was he seriously talking about masturbating in the shower? What was he, a mind reader or something?

“The other five percent sing,” he said, as if we were having a normal conversation and he wasn’t standing buck naked in front of me, his dick dripping water onto the carpet. “Do you know what song?”

Was this the joke? “No, what?”

He winked, his grin kicking up a notch. “If I have to tell you, then we know what percentage you fall into, eh?”

I wasn’t quite following him, but I knew I shouldn’t have been there. I had other jobs I had to do and he…well, judging from the semi-hard erection poking from between his legs, he had other things on his mind, too. Pushing the shop vac ahead of me into the hall, I forced myself to look him in the face and not speak to his dick. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this—”

“Hold up.” He put out a hand to stop me, letting the towel fall from the top of his head. Thick black spikes stood up at randy angles from his scalp, and though he held the towel at his waist now, he still made no move to cover himself. When his hand touched my shoulder, I felt the warm dampness of his palm burn through the thin fabric and imprint itself directly onto my skin.

His smile was disarming. This close—when had he moved so close?—his eyes were a pale blue, icy almost, and if I looked into them for too long, I thought I might be able to stare right through them. When he spoke again, his voice dropped dangerously low. “What’s your name?”

“Elliott,” I whispered. I struggled to keep my gaze fixed on his, but it had a disturbing habit of wanting to wander down between us to fixate on his crotch. I tightened my grip on the shop vac’s hose and tried not to imagine my hands encircling anything else. “I should go.”

His hand rubbed down my arm to my elbow, which he squeezed. “No need to rush off,” he said, his voice softer still. When he tugged a little, I let him pull my arm away from my body. His hand tickled over the sleeve of my T-shirt and into the crook of my elbow, then curved around my forearm.