Page 43 of Wardrobe Malfunction

God, this situation is so fucked up.

I see her approaching with my robe in hand.

“Sure.” I shift back a little, allowing Natasha room to move. I help her down from the bar, making sure to keep my pecker pointed in the direction of the bar and nowhere else.

“Here’s your gown,” Charly says from beside me. “You want me to help you put it on?”

“No, I got it.” My voice comes out sharper than intended.

I take the robe from her without looking at her.

I can’t look at her right now.

I just need to get the fuck out of here and clear my head for a few minutes.

That, or go and tug one out.

I pull the robe on my arms, but it feels tight.

“Why doesn’t this fit?” I bark, finally looking at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have mixed up gowns with Logan.”

She laughs, and something inside me pops.

All I want is to get my cock covered and get the fuck out of here and away from her because I want her, and I can’t have her, so somehow, now, this is all her fault.

“You think this is funny?” I snap. “I’m stark fucking naked. All I ask for is a fucking robe that fits, and you can’t even get that fucking right!”

Hurt flashes through her surprise-filled eyes. Those gorgeous blueberry eyes.

Guilt lances across my chest, leaving behind a painful ache.

The whole set is silent.

I can feel my face prickling with shame and residual anger.

Anger that I directed in the wrong place.

I’m such a prick.

I see movement in my peripheral. Logan is handing her a robe. She takes it from him and holds it out to me. Her arm stiff. Her expression fixed. But her eyes can’t hide the hurt.

“Charly…” I softly say her name, taking the robe from her.

Suddenly, I don’t care so much about putting it on. I just want her to forgive me.

And, anyway, my erection is gone. Apparently, my cock doesn’t like me hurting her either.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. West?” Her voice sounds strong, but I hear the slight waver in it.

It makes me feel like shit.

I swallow down. “Pins…”

“No? Well, okay then,” she says in an overly loud voice, “I’ll take these to get laundered.” She quickly picks up my discarded clothes that I removed in the scene, clutches them to her chest, and strides away, leaving the set through an exit door.

“What the hell was that?” Natasha says in a low voice, coming up beside me.