“There’s an extra toothbrush in there too. I left mine at home and the one I picked up at the airport was a two-pack.”
“Thanks.” I slid out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom.
It felt so good to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I eyed the shirt on the counter. Eli was a broad guy, so I knew his shirt would fit, but it wouldn’t be big enough to be appropriate to wear on its own. However, I was wearing a jumpsuit, so leaving my bottoms on wasn’t really an option.
I could just go back to bed in my clothes. That was what I should have done.
But I wanted to wear something of his. It was that painfully simple.
Pushing aside reason, I stripped out of my jumpsuit and tugged his T-shirt over my head. It was huge in the shoulders and even the chest, but snug on my hips. I gave myself a little twirl in the mirror and found that it barely covered my ass. I unhooked the black strapless bra and
slid it off. The matching—though somewhat cheeky—underwear I wore had been bought at the behest of Ruby because they had some sort of bullshit smoothing panels that didn’t actually do anything.
I set my toothbrush in the cup near the sink and flicked the lights off before stepping back into the bedroom.
I’d expected to find Eli with his back to the bathroom door, already asleep, but instead he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped in his lap.
He looked up at me and let out a strangled sound. “Vera,” he whispered.
“It’s a little short,” I said. “I’m sorry. I can put my clothes back—”
“No,” he snapped. “No. Does the fact that I like seeing you in my clothes make me a Neanderthal?”
I shook my head, taking a few steps closer.
“Especially after watching you walk around the house in Brody’s old T-shirts.”
A fluttering warmth spread across my chest. I knew it was sinking to the lowest common denominator to feel turned on by him being possessive. But I was. Very much so. “It’s just the one that I sleep in sometimes,” I told him. “And I can’t even find it, anyway.”
“I know,” he said. “I may have been the reason it was lost in the laundry.”
“What?” I’d been looking for that shirt for weeks.
“I threw it in with some donations.”
I gawked. “That’s some psycho shit.”
He shrugged. “Were you expecting me to apologize?”
I shook my head because I didn’t want him to. “Did you mean what you said about being a gentleman?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own. Low and breathy.
He slid his hands under his thighs, like that might help him resist temptation. “Unfortunately.” He groaned. “But maybe you could indulge me.”
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“Vera, will you turn around for me? I just—I need to remember this. I know it’s fucked up to even say that out loud, but—”
I stepped between his legs, pushing them a little farther apart. He leaned back, taking in the view, his stare heavy.
Slowly, I turned around. The T-shirt had ridden up my ass a little so that my cheeks were peeking out the bottom. It was a part of my body that I genuinely liked.
I took a glance over my shoulder to watch him.
Pupils blown and hungry, his eyes traveled up my thighs and backside. His hands gripped the mattress now, knuckles white.
“Elias.” His name felt like a sin. The sex we’d had in Vegas—our bodies younger and less experienced but eager all the same—had been hurried and almost antagonistic. This felt different. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
He sucked in a breath and tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Fuck,” he whispered. “We should go to bed. You had a long night and—”
