—Mabel—
The door clicked shut and was followed by the sound of running water.
I hated how pictures of anything played in my head.
Alec peeling his clothes, stepping under the shower and soaping his body.
I pictured him running his hand through his wet hair as lather glided down his n,pples, hard stomach, lower to his—
Mabel!
My thighs throbbed with need, legs dangling off the edge of the dresser while I waited.
I picked up the comb again and resumed combing my hair.
Moments passed.
The sound of running water stopped and was replaced by a thick silence.
But he stayed in there longer than I expected.
What was he doing?
Just as I lowered the comb, the door opened and Alec stepped into the room.
He’d changed into black silk pajama pants that hung low on his hips and revealed the
