Chapter 13

The air hung heavy in the small laundry room, thick with the scent of detergent and a primal musk that sent a shiver down my spine. Caleb's discarded clothes started washing, turning the water red. I didn't even care that he'd commandeered the wash cycle I'd prepared.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched him through the shower stall's glass enclosure. He'd chosen the spare shower tucked away in the corner of the laundry room – a bizarre choice, considering the master bathroom was undoubtedly more luxurious.
I remained rooted to the spot, an invisible force holding me captive. Curiosity, a raw and primal urge, warred in me. Should I stay? It felt like I should.
It felt like he wanted an audience? And I... wanted a show.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched towards the shower stall, my reflection in the mirror a stark contrast to the raw masculinity on display behind the glass. Heat flooded my cheeks as I saw the telltale flush high on my own cheekbones. There was no denying the effect he had on me.
I adjusted my position, strategically placing myself to watch him more clearly. The water cascaded down his broad back, outlining the sculpted planes of his muscles. He moved with graceful efficient movements.
He was everything I'd ever fantasized about. Tall, with a lean, muscular physique that promised both power and control. His hair, dark and damp, clung to his forehead in a way that sent a jolt through my system. A forbidden thrill coursed through me as my gaze drifted downwards, picturing the hidden contours beneath the veil of the shower spray. If only he'd turn around so I could the rest...
The image that flashed in my mind was both exhilarating and terrifying. A vision of myself joining him in the shower, the heat of the water mingling with the heat of our bodies. My breath hitched, the fantasy so real it felt like a betrayal.
I felt myself getting wet the longer I watched him, imagining licking the water off his skin.
The hiss of the shower shutting off snapped me back to the moment. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs, a stark contrast to the silence that now filled the small room. Then, the washer chimed. The cycle had miraculously finished just as Caleb emerged, a cruel twist of fate considering my current predicament.
I busied myself opening the washer and pulling out his clothes so I could actually wash min, anything to avoid the inevitable moment he stepped out of the shower. The glass offered no privacy, and the image of his damp, muscular form was burned into my mind.
"Clothes--"
I broke off as he walked out naked with the towel on his head rather than his waist.
A bead of sweat trickled down my temple as I watched him come out. Water droplets glistend on his sculpted chest. He was half hard and thick, but he didn't seem to notice or care. His gaze was empty, indifferent, devoid of the usual preening or posturing I was accustomed to on set. He reached into the washer, his hand brushing against mine as he retrieved his clothes. The contact sent a jolt through me. He tossed the clothes into the dryer with a practiced ease, the silence between us thick with unspoken tension. Just as I was about to suggest maybe using the master bathroom next time, a voice boomed from the doorway.
"Yvonne? Everything alright in here?" It was Quinton, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze flickering between me and Caleb, who remained impassive.
"Yeah, everything's fine," I managed, my voice betraying no hint of the chaotic mix of emotions swirling within me. "We were just, uh…" I trailed off, searching for a way to explain. Caleb leaned on the dryer as it started to run, seemingly planning to just wait.
Quinton raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. "Looks like your washing machine can barely handle one person, let alone two. Maybe it's time for an upgrade."
My cheeks burned with a mixture of frustration and a flicker of something else. Caleb, oblivious to the awkwardness, simply standing there with his eyes closed.
In that moment, I couldn't decide what was more unexpected – being caught ogling a half-naked stranger in Quinton's laundry room, or the realization that my initial attraction to Caleb was still growing.
"Though you're dreaming if you're aiming for Caleb."
My cheeks burned under Quinton's gaze.
"Caleb's Jason's bodyguard, ex special forces or something. A bit out of your usual reach, wouldn't you say?"
The mention of Jason sent a jolt through me. So, this enigmatic stranger wasn't just some random thug. Being a former special forces soldier explained the honed physique and the aura of danger that clung to him like a second skin.
"He only films when Jason can strong arm him into it."
Caleb still said nothing. Quinton drew closer to me.
"Thinking about it, hm?" Quinton said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe I can help you out with your... curiosity."
His eyes twinkled with a suggestive glint. I turned to finish filling the washer machine, ending up throwing it all in on cold with some detergent than pretending to separate it. It wasn't like I wore clothes often. Something chimed and Caleb walked out of the room toward the sound.
"I could see you sitting on his cock," Quinton said thoughtfully. "He'd manhandle you pretty easily. You're not that heavy."
"Please stop."
The image was hot and I could practically feel his cock pushing into me, the weightless feeling of being bounced in his arms. I'd been in a few scenes like that to know what it felt like, even before Quinton.
Quinton threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the small room.
"Alright, alright," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "How about dinner, then? My treat, of course."
Relief washed over me and I nodded. As I followed Quinton out of the laundry room, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else at work. Caleb was in front of the window, just as naked as before and on the phone. He was still there when Quinton led me out the door.