He took the steps two at a time and, at the top, found his apartment door locked.

Fuckin’ fuck.

If she was asleep in his bed again…

No matter what, tonight he was not sleeping on his fucking couch.

He didn’t even bother to pound on the door in case she was still in the shower. It was just easier for him to jog back down the stairs and find the spare set of keys for the bar where he had hidden them in the storage area. This time when he headed back up, it was a little slower than the first time.

Okay, a lot slower, because, fuck him, he wasn’t in shape enough to be running up and down stairs.

He unlocked the door, shoved it open and stopped.

She was nowhere in sight. Not even in his bed. Not on his couch. Not raiding his fridge.

He couldn’t hear the shower running, either.

It was way too quiet for his liking.

He instinctively glanced at the back windows to make sure she didn’t jump since that was the only other way out of the apartment. Thank fuck all the windows were still shut tight.

He headed over to the bathroom door, leaned closer and listened.

Nothing.

“Syn.”

Still nothing.

His heart began to pound.

The door was open a crack, probably to release the steam when she showered since the exhaust fan was broken in his tiny bathroom. He always had to shower with the door wide open so he didn’t suffocate.

He put his eye to the opening and peeked in.

He felt like such a fucking creeper, but he was more concerned than anything.

He saw a thin arm hanging out of the side of the tub and peeking out from behind the shower curtain.

For fuck’s sake, she didn’t slice her wrists or anything crazy like that, did she?

He shoved the door open and stopped when he heard it.

Her soft snoring.

Again.

What the fuck?

She was asleep? In the damn tub?

He yanked the curtain back and yelled, “Syn!”

She jerked awake and sat straight up. The water splashed his jeans and boots and sloshed over the side, soaking his bathroom floor.

“What,” she murmured sluggishly, confused. As she blinked herself awake, he saw her thick, black eyelashes were clumped together from the water. Or the thick humidity. Since she must have been simmering in the tub like a pot of Amish chicken corn soup.

What was not sluggish was his blood as it rushed from his damn brain south to his dick.

She was slick with the soapy water.

And naked.

In his fucking bathtub.

Thank fuck she was alive, but now he wanted to kill her for scaring the fuck out of him.

He quickly turned away, left the tiny room and slammed the door behind him.

He suddenly needed more than one door between them.

Not even two would be enough.

He needed at least two towns, two counties, two states. Hell, an ocean between them might do it.

“Why were you in here?” he heard her yell, now no longer sounding sluggish but a bit panicked.

She wasn’t the only one.

Jesus Christ.

“Why were you in here?” she shrieked again through the closed door.

He tried to shove aside the vision that was now seared into his brain.

Syn completely fucking naked.

Looking more delicate and breakable without her clothes.

Everything about her milky white except for the shock of wet, dark ropey strands of hair, wide dark eyes and… the dark patch of hair he could barely see under the water.

But her tits…

Small, but perfect, with her nipples puckered.

Shit. “You never came the fuck back down. Got worried.”

“But why were you in here?”

“‘Cause I thought…” Fuck. ‘Cause I thought you fuckin’ hurt yourself. Or passed out. Or…

He yanked the wool beanie off his head because he was beginning to sweat and scraped his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t see shit.”

Fuck! He saw everything.

Silence came from the other side of the door.

Then water splashing.

Cursing.

Stomping.

More mumbled cursing.

A few seconds later, the door whipped open and she stepped out with only a towel wrapped around her. She hadn’t taken the time to dry off because her hair was still dripping wet and the exposed skin he could see was still shiny.

He quickly dropped his beanie in front of his hard-on and, since his kitchen was right next to the bathroom, he moved to the other side of the small island counter. He already felt like a goddamn pervert and the last thing he needed was her noticing his reaction to seeing her naked.

She would close up like a fucking clam.

“Nice,” she said when her eyes flicked to his erection. She jerked the towel tighter around her.

He grimaced, then threw his beanie on the counter. “Didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to, but you did.”

“It’s my fuckin’ apartment.”

“And I’ll get out of it. Thank you for letting me use the shower.”

“You weren’t takin’ a fuckin’ shower.”

“I cleaned it before I used it, by the way. You’re welcome.”

Tags: Jeanne St. James Blood Fury MC Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net