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Chapter 4: Caught
publish date:
2026-05-27 18:55:42She woke up before him.
6am, grey light coming through the gaps in his curtains, the television having switched itself off sometime in the night. For a moment — just a brief, disoriented moment — she forgot where she was. Then it came back. The flood. The knock. The blanket that smelled faintly of his fabric softener. She lay still for a second, looking at the ceiling. Then she heard it. The shower. She sat up slowly. Pushed her hair back from her face. Told herself she was just adjusting to being awake, just getting her bearings in an unfamiliar space. She stood, folded the blanket with more precision than was probably necessary, and set it on the arm of the sofa. She should make coffee. Or sit back down. Or look out the window at something neutral and architectural. Instead she found herself standing in the hallway. His bathroom door was not fully closed. A tempting sliver of warm light and steam spilled into the dark hallway. The sound of running water was steady, rhythmic. She should walk away. She knew she should. She was a therapist. She understood boundaries. Impulse control. The dangerous gap between thought and action. But her feet carried her forward anyway. She leaned in, barely, heart hammering against her ribs. Through the narrow opening she could see the glass shower door, fogged with steam. Damien stood under the spray, back to her, water cascading over his broad shoulders and down the sculpted lines of his back. His body was even better than she’d imagined from stolen glances through her window — powerful thighs, tight ass, the kind of physique that came from years of professional football. He turned slightly to rinse the soap from his chest. Olivia’s breath caught. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick even while soft, long and impressive. As the water ran down his body, it swayed slightly with his movements. She stared, unable to look away. God… he’s huge. The realization sent a rush of heat straight between her thighs. She imagined what it would look like fully hard — how it would stretch her, how heavy it would feel in her hand, how deep he could go. Her mind spiraled: him pressing her against the shower wall, that big dick sliding into her slowly at first, then harder, her legs wrapped around his waist as steam filled the room and he fucked her until she couldn’t think straight. A soft, involuntary sound escaped her throat. The water shut off. Olivia froze. “See anything interesting?” Damien’s deep voice came from just on the other side of the door, low and amused. Her entire body went rigid. She hadn’t noticed the shower stop. She’d been too lost in the sight of him — and in the filthy images flooding her mind. She straightened up immediately. The door swung open. Damien stood in the doorway with a towel slung dangerously low around his waist, water still glistening on his shoulders and chest. That almost-smile was on his face — the one that said he knew exactly what she’d been doing. She opened her mouth. Closed it. He leaned against the doorframe, completely unbothered, droplets tracing paths down his abs toward the edge of the towel. “Morning,” he said. “I was—” she started, cheeks burning. “Yeah?” His eyes darkened with quiet amusement. “I was looking for the kitchen.” “The kitchen,” he repeated, clearly not believing her for a second. “Yes.” He glanced slowly down the hallway toward the very obvious kitchen, then back at her. “It’s that way.” “I know where it is.” “Do you?” He tilted his head. Then, deliberately, he reached up and unwrapped the towel from his waist, letting it drop just enough for a split second before grabbing the smaller towel from his shoulder to dry his hair. In that brief moment, Olivia saw everything again — up close. The thick, heavy length of him. Her imagination went wilder: her on her knees, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth, his hand in her hair, his low groans filling the bathroom. She snapped her mouth shut, mortified. “Coffee?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t just given her a full view. “Yes,” she managed, voice slightly hoarse. She followed him to the kitchen, pulse still racing, thighs pressed together as she tried to ignore the slick heat building between her legs. He knew. He absolutely knew what she’d seen and what she’d been imagining. And he wasn’t going to let her forget it. End of chapter 4
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