Passing an unfamiliar door—Rafe’s door—they noticed it was slightly ajar. Steam curled out into the cool air of the hallway, carrying the faint scent of expensive body wash and something else, something primal.

One glance through the narrow opening, and their body went rigid, flooded with sudden, searing heat.

Inside, the bathroom was veiled in steam. Beads of water slid down the glass shower door, catching the warm, golden light. Behind it, a silhouette moved.

He gave one last, forceful thrust into his fist. His entire body tensed, corded and shaking. A ragged cry was torn from his throat, lost in the steam.

His breathing slowed to heavy pants. He reached up, dragging a wet hand through his hair. Then his head lifted—just slightly.

Through the steam. Through the cracked doorway. Through the space where they stood, motionless, caught.

Piercing blue eyes locked onto theirs. A slow, devilish smirk tugged at his lips.