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Yup. Suspicion confirmed. I was completely, gloriously,dreadfullynaked.
My towel fell off halfway through my scream. Currently, my nipples were pointing at my future fake husband accusingly.
Oh God, my cellulitewas my first thought.He can see my cellulite. And those horrible stretch marks on my waist.Followed closely byI haven’t shaved down there in a while, have I?There was no point now, with BJ gone. This was succeeded byDuffy, you daft cow, would you cover yourself up? He’s staring!
And he was. Riggs didn’t even have the decency to pretend otherwise. He flat out ogled me, his mouth agape, his pupils dilated, his penis ...
Don’t look at his penis!
After a few moments of channeling my inner deer in headlights, I gathered the towel and secured it around me. My teeth were chattering with adrenaline.
“Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, BUGGER.” I was running like a headless chicken now. First, toward the bathroom, before realizing I didn’t have any clothes there, then toward my bedroom. Then sensible Cambridge Duffy left the building, and the one from Tooting Broadway finally reared her head, coming back from a decade-long sabbatical. “BOLLOCKS.”
“I didn’t even see anything.” Riggs was as believable as George Clooney inBatman & Robin.
“Yes, you did.” I made a beeline to my room, slamming against the wall in the process like a fly trying to penetrate a closed window. “You stared!”
“Okay, I stared.” In a few graceful strides, he was right in front of me, blocking my way to my door. “But I don’t regret it. It was the best thing I’ve seen all year.”
Really? More than Gretchen? More than all the others?
“Please move.” I crossed my arms over my chest, mainly to keep my heart from jumping into his hands.
“No can do.” He leaned against my door, hogging all the space with his massive frame. “You’re just prudish enough to never leave your room.”
I closed my eyes, drawing a shaky breath. “I can’t believe you saw me naked.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“You’re the one with the poop jokes!” I cried out.
“Look at me, Poppins.”
I was now covering my face with my hands, pretending he couldn’t see me, like a dog sitting under a table.
“No.”
“This is crazy.” I felt his rough, big,sexypalms covering mine, trying to peel my fingers off my eyes gently. I jerked back in horror.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Okay. But can you just listen?”
While I couldn’t listen, I could, apparently, launch into an incoherent tirade.
“What kind of perv stares at someone when they’re naked?” I bit out, my nonposh accent sneaking through. “And it’s not just you being a creep. Everything has been shite today. I failed all of my job interviews. And BJ hasn’t called since, since—you were right, heisa twat. And ... and ... money’s tight. I might have to sell my Equinox membership next month. And then I forgot the tacos!” I let out a pained moan. “Ourtacos.”
There was a lengthy silence. Granted, six seconds seemed like an eternity after my verbal diarrhea.
“Are you done?”
“Not quite.” I cringed. “But go on.”
“I’m going to touch you now,” he said gruffly, around the time my chest stopped rising and falling like I’d just run a marathon.
I felt Riggs’s hands prying my fingers from my face gently. He kept my palms in his, rubbing circles with his thumb over a sensitive spot between the base of my thumb and my index finger. He waited patiently until my eyes had fluttered open. I couldn’t look at him, even though he stood directly in front of me, only a couple of inches away. His body heat rolled against mine, making my skin prickle everywhere.
I very maturely kept my gaze stuck on the ceiling.
