“I have to use your restroom,” he announces and walks out of the kitchen. He’s halfway down the hall when it occurs to me that he’s headed for the master. I run after him, slipping in front of him before he can open the closed door.

“Not this one.” I swallow hard, short of breath. “You can use the guest bath.”

He narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s uh—” I search my brain, frantically looking for an excuse to keep him out of this bathroom. “I’m having it remodeled.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s a mess. I haven’t cleaned in a month.”

He doesn’t flinch. He gently wraps his hand around my throat and jawline and leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. “I’m going in this bathroom, Mary Margaret.”

My core tightens—I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Before I can reply, he turns the knob and opens the door behind me. I close my eyes and lean my forehead on Cam’s chest.

But he says nothing.

I open one eye and look up at him.

“The camera is pointed toward the shower,” is all he says.

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me you’re not letting people watch you take a shower for money because I’ll have to hunt every single one of them down and kill them.”

I feel my lips twitch, so I press them together. A giggle bubbles up in my chest.

“Ew, no.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just waits.

“So, you’re welcome to use the guest room,” I say lamely.

“Are you going to tell me what this is?”

Well, damn. I glance back at my setup with the lighting and candles and my phone still held in the slot for the optimum angle and sigh.

“I sing songs for social media, and the shower has the best acoustics.”

He glances down at me, then back up at my stuff, and grins. “Cool. You have a beautiful voice. Why is this a secret?”

“It’s not a secret.” I shrug a shoulder. “I just don’t talk about it because it’s something I do just for me. It’s kind of my therapy, which I know sounds weird, but—”

He kisses my forehead. “It doesn’t sound weird. Were you in the middle of this when I arrived?”

“I was about to sing my last song for the week.”

“Well, go ahead and sing it. I have to finish getting dinner ready anyway.”

I blink up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure. Do what you need to do, Mags. I interrupted your evening, not the other way around.”

“It shouldn’t take me longer than about five minutes.”

“Hey, take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen. After I use the guest bathroom.”