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I hoped wherever he went would give him some time to calm down, but now that he’s back, I feel like he’s gotten worse. The sound of somebody being thoroughly pissed off comes through the door. I know what to listen for. It’s been practically the soundtrack of my life. A slammed cabinet door. Heavy footfalls, almost like he’s stomping. The sound of something being dropped on the floor and his muttered profanity.
I need him to feel better for my sake. I don’t want him taking it out on me, whatever it is.
When I hear the shower turn on, I breathe a little easier. He’s not coming straight for me. Maybe a shower will calm him down a little before we’re face-to-face. Men are such babies. They can’t handle the slightest thing, yet they want us to believe they deserve to be in charge. What a joke.
The water stops running way too soon for my comfort. How do I handle this? If he’s pissy, it’ll be better to stay out of his way and keep quiet. I’ve done a pretty good job of that the past couple of days.
I’ve had a lot of practice. I can handle one man having a hissy fit.
The key slides into the lock, and I sit up a little straighter.
“Hi,” I murmur once he opens the door—and that’s all I manage to get out because, hot damn, he didn’t take the time to get dressed. He’s barely even dried off; water droplets glisten on his chest and shoulders. There’s nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist to hide the rest of him. But what I see in front of me is more than enough to make me forget all about being afraid.
It’s not like I couldn’t guess at the body under his clothes. His biceps and shoulders tend to make me wonder if the seams on his shirts are extra strong since there are times when it looks like he’s about to pop out like the Hulk or something.
But this? The chiseled abs, the way the deep V cut at his hips leads down to what’s barely hidden by the towel? The happy trail of dark blond hair peeking out from over the top…
And his tattoos. All they do is make him hotter and, somehow, more human. Like there’s more to him than the cold, unfeeling tightass he’s shown me so far. He has a past. How did he end up here?
And why can’t I stop staring at him?
I’m no good at hiding it, either. He snickers, and I pull my attention from his impressive chest. “What?” he teases with a smirk. “Right, you’ve been away from men for a while.”
“I don’t know. Would you use that word to describe the two sacks of shit who were guarding me?”
He looks me up and down, still smirking. “You shouldn’t be so obvious, is all I’m saying. I might start considering that offer you made the first night you were here.”
Be calm. I dig my nails into my palms to center myself before I go and ruin everything. I don’t need him seeing how eager I am. “What offer was that?”
“Right. Like you forgot this soon.” He folds his arms, his biceps bulging, and I almost forget to breathe. He wasn’t kidding. It’s been too long since I’ve been around any man worth looking at. “Did they knock you around a little too hard back there? Is your memory faulty?”
I snap my fingers, pretending to come up with the memory. “Oh, right. When I offered to suck your dick.” Is it just me, or does he twitch a little under that towel when I say it? At the end of the day, he’s just a man. He can pretend all he wants to be something better, something bigger, but he’s only kidding himself.
He shakes his head and lets out a little sigh. “Yes. That’s the offer I was referring to.”
“So you’re feeling a little more open-minded, is that it?” I sit back down on the foot of the bed, lifting an eyebrow. “Listen, I get it. You’ve probably got a really stressful job. Everybody needs to unwind somehow.”
“Something like that.” He twitches again, much more obvious this time.
And he’s not backing away, either. Nor is he pulling that holier than thou act on me like he did before. Things are starting to go my way here, and it’s time to see if he’s bullshitting me or not.
When I get up, he doesn’t move. He remains rooted in place even when I cross the room and come to stand in front of him, even when I slowly get on my knees.
Using both hands, I grab the edge of the towel and tug. It falls to his feet, revealing the rest of him—including his huge, semi-erect dick. I look up at him through thick lashes.
