Say It's Not Fake

I gave the crew the day off so they could attend. It had taken a lot of work, and I wanted them all recognized for their efforts. Nothing is a one-man job, and I always made sure my crew got as many kudos as I did.

I was also scheduled to meet briefly with Adam this morning, who had filed the custody paperwork in the local court a week and a half ago. We had agreed we’d file under both mine and Whitney’s names.

“Damn it, where’s Frazzles?” I muttered. I checked Katie’s room, and he wasn’t there. Then I remembered she had him in the bathroom while I brushed her teeth.

Whitney’s door was closed, so I assumed she was getting ready, which was the only reason I didn’t knock before barging into the bathroom. I walked into a face full of steam. My brain went into immediate slowdown, and I was rooted to the spot.

Whitney screamed, scrambling for the towel hanging from the hook behind the door. The problem was the door was open, and I was blocking the way.

“Have you heard of knocking?” she shrieked, trying to cover herself with her hands.

I know I shouldn’t stare. If I were a gentleman, I would avert my eyes and hastily scramble out of the room with an effusive apology. Apparently, I wasn’t a gentleman because all I could do was gawk at her, my mouth hanging slightly open like a horny thirteen-year-old.

Because fucking hell, she was gorgeous.

Her hair was all wet tangles down her back. Her breasts were just as fantastic as I remembered. Large and pert, her nipples erect from the chilly air I had let into the room. Her slim waist and full hips were the stuff of every guy’s fantasy. The image of her naked beneath me came instantly to mind; I couldn’t help it, Not with her standing in front of me looking like a goddamn goddess.

I felt the answering twinge in my shorts. A tightening in my groin that had me biting down on a moan.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

I lifted my hand. I wanted to touch her. All of her. I wanted to run my tongue from her throat to her thighs. I wanted to taste every exquisite inch in between.

I was so hard it hurt.

“Kyle!” she exclaimed, shoving me backward. “Get out!”

“Oops sorry. But you should have locked the door—” I started to say, but she had already slammed the door in my face, leaving me hot and bothered with a picture of her naked and wet playing on a loop in my head.

“Dada!” I heard Katie call, and it was like being dunked into a bucket of cold water. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I ran my hand down my face and pulled myself together.

I knocked on the door. “Uh, Whitney, is Frazzles in there?”

“What?” She sounded breathless. What was she doing in there?

“Katie’s stuffed monkey. I think she left it by the sink,” I called through the door. I pressed my hand against the wood, trying not to think about her on the other side.

Then the door opened, and she stood there, now covered with a towel. She shoved the toy into my hand. “Here.”

Her chest was flushed, the heat spreading up her neck. Only a scrap of cotton separated me from her hot, naked body.

Stop it, damn it!

“Thanks,” I croaked.

She licked her lips. I watched. I couldn’t help it. My dick strained against my zipper.

“I need to get ready,” she rasped.

“Okay,” I said but didn’t move.

She smelled like roses and musk. A bead of water slid down her neck, disappearing into the crevice between her magnificent breasts.

“Kyle, seriously, you need to move. I have to get dressed.” She sounded less turned on and more annoyed.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” I stepped to the side and let her pass. She hurried to her bedroom and closed the door without looking back at me. I was left standing there feeling like a royal idiot.

A pervy, royal idiot.

I went back downstairs, forcing myself to forget about the beautiful naked woman upstairs.

Whitney came down a few minutes later, not meeting my eyes, the air between us was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Look, Whitney, I’m sorry about that. I should have knocked. Jesus. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stand there, ogling me?” She raised an eyebrow, and I honestly couldn’t tell if she was angry at me or not. Her tone was almost teasing. But there was a firm set to her mouth as though she were challenging me.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“No guessing about it, you took your time leaving. I’d say there was definite ogling going on,” she countered.

“Okay, I was ogling.” I glanced at Katie, who was bouncing up and down in her pack n’ play, singing a song at the top of her lungs in her own gibberish way. I turned back to Whitney and smirked. “But can you blame me?” I wiggled my eyebrows, and Whitney laughed.