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And I could see T-shirts.
If there’s one item of clothing I have a weakness for, it’s T-shirts. Especially T-shirts with retro logos on them. And in amongst all those folded T-shirts, I glimpsed what could only be the logos for the Rolling Stones, Star Wars, Ghostbusters, the Ramones, AC/DC, Wonder Woman…
Oh boy.
I moved deeper into the walk-in closet, trying to hold onto my fury at Lucas but damn near salivating at all those T-shirts.
And then I spied the shoes and kind of lost it for a second.
Doc Martens and Chucks and flip-flops and strappy stilettoes of all colors lined up beside each other. I didn’t need to pick up any of them up to know they were my size.
Oh boy. Again.
Clothes. For me. Picked for me. Bought for me.
By who? Lucas? Or the good doctor? I couldn’t picture Lucas in any kind of store that would sell women’s clothing. Not at all.
Chest tight, pulse pounding, I approached the shelves of denim shorts and trailed my fingertips over them.
Dressed. I needed to get dressed. So I could tell Lucas exactly what I thought of—
“I’ve always loved your ass in those short shorts you wear.”
I startled at Lucas’s deep voice to my right.
He leant against the inside wall of the closet, his grin
lazy and satisfied as he watched me. There was no way I could miss the fact he was still naked. Christ, he was the most exquisite example of the male species I’ve ever encountered. And the most arrogant.
Prick.
Of course, that didn’t stop my body reacting to the open hunger in his eyes as he regarded me, or the sheer maleness of his naked form.
Stupid body.
“In that case,” I said, turning back to the clothes, “I think I’ll wear a maxi dress so you can’t—”
His laughter preceded his firm grip on my wrist, which preceded—by barely a heartbeat—him yanking me to his chest and crushing my mouth with his.
The possessive kiss lasted a split second. Long enough for me to realize I had fuck-all chance of resisting him.
And then he let me go with another chuckle.
I swayed on my feet for a second. Swayed. For a goddamn second.
He chuckled, and slapped my ass. “Short shorts, Ronnie.”
Grinding my teeth, I watched him turn to his side of the closet and select a pair of Levis that looked like they’d been worn a hundred times.
I made the mistake of tracking his hands as he shook out his jeans, which brought my line of sight dangerously close to his groin.
My pulse quickened as his impressive cock came into my peripheral and, muttering, “Bastard prick,” loud enough for him to hear me, I snatched a pair of shorts from my side, along with a T-shirt.
Shorts.
Yeah, I know.
Without looking at Lucas, I stomped from the closet and across the bedroom.
