Charmed: A Prescott Novel by Joanne Schwehm

“I don’t know what to do. I mean, I like him too, but what if he’s my rebound guy? That would be bad, right? And if he isn’t my rebound guy, how do I start something I can’t finish? Plus, I love having him as a friend. What if I screw that up?”

“Gretchen, didn’t you say you wanted to take life by the balls?”

“Yes.” Little did she know I literally almost grabbed some balls not too long ago.

“Then I don’t see the problem. You’re both adults. Talk to him.”

I heard the water still running, but he’d probably be out soon.
“I will.” My bladder screamed at me. I needed to pee. Dammit, we only had one bathroom. “I gotta go. Call you later. Thanks for listening; I love you.”

I clicked off the call and scurried toward the bathroom. Just as I was about to knock on the door to ask if I could go in, I heard a moan, then another.

Was he hurt? Did he fall?

Without a second thought, I opened the door and stared at his figure behind the foggy glass, hot water pounding on him.

His one arm was outstretched as he propped himself against the tile in front of him, the other gliding up and down . . . I squinted my eyes, trying to focus . . . up and down his erection.

Holy shit. The urgency to pee disappeared as I stared wide-eyed at what was happening.

More groaning as he pumped faster. Water splashed on the glass, creating tiny windows in the steam. I bit my lip, and my heart pounded as I continued my voyeurism.

His right leg shifted backward, his right knee bent, giving me a better view of what was happening. He looked like an Adonis.

I’d never watched a man jerk off before, and this was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. More pumping, more groaning, and one might have come out of my mouth along with his. Mason let out a feral growl as I watched him ejaculate. Spurt after spurt, then his chest heaved as he leaned forward, resting his head on the tile.

My bladder reminded me why I was there, but my brain made me turn around and leave the small space, closing the door so I could knock from the outside.

“One sec,” came from beyond the door.

“Sorry. I need to use the bathroom.”

Mason opened the door. My gaze roamed his wet body from the droplets of water falling off the ends of his hair to where his towel rested on his lower hips. Doing my best not to turn every shade of crimson, I just smiled.

“Hi. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

He stepped aside and let me in before closing the door, leaving me alone.
As I sat down, I turned my head toward the shower. I’d never forget what I’d seen, nor did I think I wanted to.

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