I try to fight the desire until the need overcomes me. I rush to Drew’s room and grab my little black bag and clothes, then go to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and stand there for minutes as thoughts of Travis rush over me like the warm water. I take my time washing my body, the soapsuds dripping down my stomach and legs. I can’t remember the last time I pleasured myself, but I need it.
My hands find their way down my body. My nipples are hard peaks. I pinch one, imagining Travis’s hands touching me all over. It’s almost too much to handle. I move the shower curtain and take my vibrator from its little black bag and turn it on low. I press it against my other nipple and tuck my bottom lip in my mouth. I lean my back against the wall and prop a leg on the edge of the tub, and as soon as I press the vibrator against my swollen clit, I gasp. I can’t hold back the moans. I relive how it felt to have Travis’s fingers deep inside me, pleasuring and pushing me to the limit. I don’t know how much longer I can last as I sink deeper into the pleasure.
I glide the vibrator inside, allowing it to fill me, and I’ve never been so wet or turned on while doing this. My fingers are slick as I run them up and down my slit, and I know it’s because of Travis. My fantasy takes over, and I tug my nipple, allowing a shot of pleasure and pain to course through me. The vibrator against my sensitive bud causes my body to react instantly. Travis was right; it doesn’t feel the same as his touch. He knows what my body needs and wants as if he’s always been my lover.
My body begs for release as the orgasm builds deep inside, but I continue to tease myself, allowing the impending pleasure to linger. I’m right on the edge, and I imagine Travis standing at the bathroom door, silently watching me with a sexy grin on his face as he demands me to come. The fantasy of him is almost as good as the real thing. My body begins to tremble as I move the vibrator along my pussy. The thought of him has me losing myself under the warm water, struggling to stay standing. The powerful orgasm rolls through me, and as I come, his name leaves my lips.
Chapter 13
Travis
I’m beyond relieved when I finally get to leave work. Today’s been…interesting…to say the least. I’ve been assigned the project of a lifetime, which I’m pumped for, but of course it comes with strings attached—Alyssa Crawford.
Needing to let off some steam, I drive to the gym for another workout. I make sure to take my earbuds in with me this time. I don’t need any more distractions, and the louder the music, the better I lift.
Luckily, the gym is quiet today, and I get a good hour in before I call it quits. I need a hot shower and food, but then I remember Viola will be at the house. After the way we left things last night, I’m not sure I’m ready to face her, but I won’t run away from whatever it is we have going on between us.
Things with Viola Fisher have been messy and fucked up for years. That’s nothing new. But the way she gave in to me the other night? Now, that’s definitely new. This game we’re playing is dangerous, and it’s a lot worse with Alyssa. If I piss her off, it could cost me my entire career. However, if I screw it up with Viola, it could cost me everything else. Both are too risky to be gambling with, yet here I am.
Shit, it’s only Monday, and I already need a drink.
As soon as I pull up to the house, I see Viola’s car in the driveway, and while part of me is relieved, the other part is terrified at which version of Viola I’ll be greeted by.
Turning the doorknob, I cautiously walk in, listening for any signs of life inside. I walk pass the kitchen and see no movement, I walk toward the living room and see her sitting quietly on the couch with another one of her nerd books.
Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, but it looks wet, as if she just got out of the shower. She’s in her normal black leggings and a ratty college T-shirt, and her black-rimmed glasses frame her heart-shaped face. She continues reading even as I step closer, either too invested in her book or ignoring my existence completely.
“Hey…” I say, testing her for a reaction.
“Hi,” she mutters, not even flinching.
“How’s it going?”
She swipes her Kindle, keeping her eyes fixed on the electronic page. “Fine.”
I pinch my lips together, rocking back on my feet. “Okay, then…” I mumble to myself, taking the hint and getting out of her way. For some reason, her indifference feels worse than when she greets me with a Hey, asshole or Fuck off, Travis. After all these years, it almost feels like her pet name for me—with a side of hatred.
I turn on my heels and walk to my room to grab a fresh set of clothes. Just as I’m about to walk out with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in my hand, I see my top dresser drawer has been left open. I scan the room, looking for any other evidence that someone’s been in here, and the moment I walk closer to my bed, I smell it. I smell her.
Viola’s been in my room.
And possibly, on my bed.
Now why would Viola Fisher, president of the I Hate Travis King Club and all-around good girl, set foot in my bedroom? The corner of my lips tilts up, curiously, wondering what she was looking for and what it is she found.
That girl can shoot daggers at me until she’s blue in the face, but her body will give her away every time. She may hate me on the surface, but there’s something inside her that isn’t telling the whole story.
I walk into the hallway and peek around, but she’s still sitting on the couch, reading. I want to ask so badly why she was in my room, but I’ll save that for another time.
Walking into the bathroom, her body wash scent immediately takes over my senses. A mix of fresh raspberries and something else consumes me as I undress and turn the shower on. Does she have to be every-fucking-where?
Work left me tense and going to the gym helped a little but not enough. I want to wring Alyssa’s neck for using Sloan to her advantage. She has me right in the palm of her hand, and she knows it. She knows I’ve been trying to get promoted to bigger projects, and the second I give in, she pulls the rug out from under me.
But how do I say no? How do I walk away from a promotion I’ve been working my ass off to get? Or the better question is, how do I survive the project without Alyssa Crawford eating me alive?
I’m so distracted by my thoughts that it takes me a moment to see what’s behind the shampoo bottle on one of the shelves. What the hell is that?
Brushing both hands through my hair to push the water out of my eyes, I see it much clearer. Once I grab it and hold it in my palm, I know exactly what it is.
A pleased smirk spreads wide over my face at the thought of her using this in the shower and screaming out her pleasure. Pressing the button, I feel it come to life and imagine Viola thinking of me as she gets herself off.
Now I know exactly why she came into my room—inspiration.
Once I’m finished, I turn off the shower, then grab my towel and dry off. I don’t leave without her little toy in my hand. I’m about to give Viola Fisher a taste of her own medicine.
With my towel still wrapped around my waist, I strut down the hallway back to where she’s sitting, her nose still stuck in her eBook. I almost have to do a double take to make sure she’s breathing.
“So, V…” I stand behind her and lower my body, crossing my arms over the back of the couch where her head is resting. “Good book?”