Who am I to judge? Because I’m staring right back.
My eyes lower, mapping the span of his strong shoulders before dropping down his chest.
My God.
His chest is all smooth muscle and sun-kissed skin, rising and falling with choppy breaths.
My throat goes dry as my gaze drifts down, raking over the clean lines of his stomach and perfect abs. I secretly fantasize about what it would feel like to run my tongue over each ripple.
Desire swirls low in my belly as my eyes fall further, following the dark trail of hair that leads to his—
Right before I get to the main event, his hand shoots down to cover his cock.
Damn him.
“Meadow!” he shrieks. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing in here?”
I gape at him.
“What do you mean, what amIdoing in here?” I snap. “The bathroom is literally in my room. What areyoudoing in here? It’s six in the fucking morning, Owen!”
“I woke up like half an hour ago and couldn't fall back asleep,” he rushes out. “So I figured I’d go for an early morning run. I didn’t know you were in here, I swear to God. I thought you were asleep. That’s why I didn’t knock—”
“Go for a run?” I interrupt. “Who takes a shower right before sweating their ass off?”
“Me, apparently,” he defends. “I like taking cold showers in the morning. They wake me up.”
“You’re a psychopath,” I shoot back. “A certified psychopath.”
“I’m the crazy one?” He snorts. “This is a routine morning for me. I always get up early for runs. What the hell are you doing up? Taking a shower at six a.m. on vacation feels way more suspicious than my run.”
I hesitate, mouth open and closing as my brain tries to come up with an excuse.
Thinking about you.
Fantasizing about you.
Literally riding my fingers as I moan your name.
Yeah. Absolutely not.
“I’ve been up,” I say nonchalantly.
He raises a skeptical brow. “Doing what?”
“Are we seriously doing this right now?” I blurt. “Having a full conversation while we’re both completely naked?”
Owen’s eyes flick back down my body before slowly dragging them up. A wicked grin tugs at his mouth.
“I mean...” he shrugs, “I’m not complaining.”
My stomach does a round of backflips.
The fucking audacity. The confidence. The sexy as hell, unfair charm of this man.
“Get out, Owen!” I screech, wishing I had a free hand so I could chuck a shampoo bottle at his stupid head.
He laughs,freaking laughs, as he stumbles backward out of the shower, nearing slipping on the tile.
