Me: That’s perfect.
* * *
I walk into the house, then head up the stairs to Blake’s bedroom.
The door is closed, so I knock.
“One sec,” he says.
A few seconds later, he answers the door, shirtless.
My eyes go wide as my gaze drifts down his chest.
Whoa.
He’s a wall of muscles and hard lines. There’s a burst of golden hair at the center of his chest, trailing down his abs, disappearing in the waistband of his gym shorts.
Beads of sweat trickle down his body. His chest rises and falls with the breath he takes.
Since I’ve been living in Blake’s bedroom, I’ve seen him shirtless a few times. His hotness is off the charts, so of course I look at him. Politely. I never stare.
But this is different. He’s up close.Reallyclose. His chest is inches from my face. And he’s sweating. And breathing hard.
I’ve never seen him work out without his shirt on. It isverysexy.
His body is flushed and glistening with sweat. He looks so…manly. So raw.
I never thought I had a thing for guys who work out shirtless. But I guess I do.
When I finally look up at his face, his mouth is slanted up in a sexy half-smile.
“Sorry, I was finishing a push-up workout just now.” He wipes his forearm over his face.
He steps aside to let me in.
“Sorry if it smells a little sweaty in here,” he says, opening the window.
I clear my throat. “No, it’s okay. It’s good.”
I guess I’d better get used to seeing him shirtless. We’ll be having sex soon.
He grabs a towel draped over his desk chair and wipes the sweat from his chest. He tosses it into this laundry basket, then grabs his T-shirt and puts it on.
“So, um, you wanted to talk about rules,” I say, trying not to stare at his body too much.
He takes a long swig of water from the bottle on his desk.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Wanna sit?”
I lower down on the edge of his bed while he takes the desk chair.
His gaze focuses as he looks at me. “You sure you wanna do this, Briar?”
I nod. “Very sure.”
His smile is gone. He looks serious now. He’s thinking hard.
“So what are your rules?” I ask.
