Page 60 of Rush

Ares doesn’t say anything. He just leans his ass against the counter, eyes watching me.

I take a sip of water and then rest my lower back against the window ledge as I cradle the glass to my chest. Desperately trying not to look at his bare chest. It’s harder than you’d think.

I’m blaming his nakedness for my brain fry and word vomit from a few minutes ago.

How is a girl supposed to think straight with all this smooth, golden skin in front of her?

Now that he’s closer, I can see that he has a fine smatter of dark hairs on his chest.

It makes him even hotter.

But I’m not here to think about his hotness. I’m here to make sure I haven’t screwed up our friendship with my lack of honesty.

And I’m clearly doing a shitty job of not trying to stare at his chest.

I lift my eyes to his face, and I see a raised brow and a spark of smug humor in his expression.

He totally knows I was checking him out.

My cheeks heat.

I take another drink of water.

“So…” I say.

“So…” he echoes.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said.”

“I did. I just wanted to say it again.”

“Okay.” He nods.

No, I accept your apology, Jailbird, or, You’re forgiven. I totally understand.

Frustration burns my cheeks.

“You look annoyed.” There’s almost humor in his words.

“I’m not annoyed.” Another sip of my water.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Good. Because it would be a bit shitty of you to be annoyed with me after what you did—”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Jailbird.”

“What?”

“I’m fucking with you.”

I meet his eyes, which are now much softer and smiling at me. “Ass.”