Maybe

Dan’s throat worked. The towels slipped from his arms, landing with a muffled thump on the damp floor. "Uhhhh—"

Bailey laughed—and reached for the wine glass perched on the edge of the tub. She took a slow sip, watching him over the rim. "You’re staring, Dan." She licked a drop from her lip. "Like you’ve never seen tits before."

Dan swallowed hard. Jess’s were smaller, perkier—he knew every freckle on them. But Bailey’s were something else: as she leaned forward. He couldn’t stop staring at her nipples. "I—uh—shouldn’t—"

"Oh, don’t bullshit me." Bailey rolled her eyes. "Jess hasn’t satisfied in weeks, has she? I hear you two arguing through the walls." She smirked. "Marc’s the same for me lately."

Dan’s pulse hammered—half shame, half thrill. He shouldn’t be here. But his dick was betraying him. Bailey noticed. Her laugh was low, knowing.

"Tell me," she murmured, swirling the wine with her fingertips before trailing them down her tits, "what Jess won’t let you do."