He reaches for the button of his slacks and shucks them off. When he shoves down his boxer briefs, letting his big cock spring free, I can’t stop myself from moaning at the mental picture and move closer to the connecting door. I lean against it, picturing Lincoln fisting his cock, and I slide my hand into my shorts.

As soon as my fingertips slide across my wetness, I groan and drop my head back. When it smacks hard against the wood, I freeze.

Thirty

Lincoln

The sound that comes from the connecting door has to be my imagination. There’s no way Whitney could know that I’m in here. Even so, I pause in the act of pouring my drink and wait for another knock. All I hear is silence.

I set the decanter down and cross the room. I feel like an idiot as I put my ear against the panel.

Nothing.

My hand drops to the lock of its own accord and I twist it. The door, meant to allow for a VIP guest to reserve two suites and maintain privacy as they move between them, glides open.

Instead of seeing her face like I hoped, all I see is the white panel of the second door.

I listen closer, and I swear I can hear her breathing. Like I did minutes ago, I reach out and press my palm to the door.

Unfortunately, the fact that I want it to open doesn’t magically make it so. I drop my hand, and my first instinct is to close the door as I back away, but I don’t. Instead, I leave it open as I walk to the bar cart and finish pouring my drink.

After the day I’ve had, there may not be enough Scotch in this hotel to stop my brain from working, but I can try.

A shot of Whitney would do a hell of a lot better.

I take the glass back to the sofa and sit, but my attention stays on the door.

Is she on the other side? Does she know that it took everything I had to stop myself from knocking?

A minute later, I hear another noise. I bolt off the sofa and step closer.

At first, it sounds like a muffled voice. After a few seconds, I realize it’s a moan.

“Whitney?” I say her name quietly, my mouth only inches away from the wood that separates us.

“I’m so close.” She whispers the words just loud enough for me to hear them. My dick jumps against the silk lining of my suit pants.

“Open the door, Blue.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“I disagree. It’s a fucking great idea.”

She moans again, and all the blood in my head rushes south. I can picture her against the door, touching herself and writhing, and all I want is to see that firsthand.

“I just want to come . . . and then I’m going to bed.”

“Even better. Now open the door, and I’ll make that happen.”