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His hands break free of me, and he looks into my eyes. His brows knit together, and I see concern there. “No, that’s not what I—I still want to. Wearegoing to. I just need a minute in the restroom. Freshen up and all that.”
“Oh, okay,” he says with a breathy voice.
“Make yourself at home. There’s a guest bathroom if you need it. First door on the left.” I smile and hasten to my bedroom.
I had to pee, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Then I wince when I look in the mirror. Rory had picked out most of the grass but missed many still lingering in the depths of my thick hair. I finish the job, take off my ghastly makeup, and run a brush through my hair. I can’t waste time and shower, and I also don’t want him to feel bad that he hasn’t showered himself, so I run some water under my armpits and between my legs and hope that will do. I brush my teeth and use some hand lotion with a gentle flowery scent that will hopefully mask any odors from the night outdoors. I smirk, remembering our mishap last night.
I kick off my boots and find him in the living room.
“You took forever,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I’m all yours now.”
