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I can’t help but smile. “Well, you see, I had this problem. One that kept me from getting any sleep last night. So, I got up early and went for a run. After an hour or so, I realized I couldn’t go back to my boat without waking up my boatmates. Access to the shower is in the main bedroom, since they locked my side of the door last night, so I thought I’d come and get some work done, and hopefully, give them enough time to wake up.”
“Wait,” she starts, setting down her knife and turning to face me. “You ran. For. An. Hour?”
“Yeah,” I answer with a shrug.
She looks at me as if I just sprouted a second head, then carefully, picks up her knife and finishes cutting the lemons. “You know, I do have a shower.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“I’m thinking that you not showering might inconvenience me more,” she sasses, the quip of her lip and glance over her shoulder going straight to my dick.
I bark out a laugh and move to stand behind her. I can feel the heat of her body as I press my front to her back. Things in the groin area are already out of control, so there’s no use in trying to hide my reaction to her. “Marissa?”
Her breath catches as she replies, “Yes?”
Bending down, I take a subtle inhale of the delicate skin of her neck. “Can I use your shower? Please?”
She gasps as I set my open lips against the place where her shoulder meets her neck. “Yes.”
I place another kiss on her skin because I can’t seem to help myself. “Thank you. I’ll be right back and then I’ll help with breakfast.” I use all of the willpower I possess to pull myself away from her and head off to her bathroom. It’s not too far of a walk, since the cottage is so small, but Marissa stops me before I can shut the door.
“Do you have a change of clothes?” she asks, making me realize for the first time that I’ll be putting my nasty clothes back on over my clean body.
“Shit.”
“Hold on,” she says, wiping her hands off on the apron once more and walking to her room. Since I’m curious, I follow her into her private space without being invited. Her room is exactly as I’ve pictured it. Feminine and clean. It’s organized with everything in its place.
Marissa goes to the closet and opens the bi-fold door. On the shelf, she grabs a small stack of clothes and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What the fuck? I watch as she flips through the clothes, pulling out a solid blue T-shirt and a pair of gray Nike basketball shorts. “Here, they might be a little snug, but at least they’re clean.”
I just stand there, staring at the proffered clothes like they’re about to bite me. “You have men’s clothing in your closet?”
She gently puts the remaining clothes back on the shelf, grabs a pair of socks sitting beside them, and tosses them my way. “Yep.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. A foreign sensation creeps up my spine and wraps around my chest, restricting my airway. My heart starts to pound and my head feels like it might explode. Am I having a stroke?
Realization hits me hard in the chest. This is what jealousy feels like. The thought of Marissa having men’s clothing in her closet – clothes that some douche bag before me wore and evidently left behind – leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I can’t even enjoy the fact that I’m standing in Marissa’s bedroom because all I can think about is the dick who wore these clothes. The dick who probably had his hands all over Marissa in this very room.
I hate this.
I hate him.
I hate jealousy and the way it burns my stomach like bad Mexican food.
“Are you okay?” she asks, still holding out the clothes.
“Uhhh,” I start, but can’t seem to find the words. I shake my head clear and reach for the clothes. “You’re giving me your ex-boyfriend’s clothes?” I try to sound casual. I fail.
Marissa seems to stop moving, stop breathing. “What? Oh God, no. Those are Jensen’s. They all have a quick change of clothes here for when we’re working on the house.”
Oh.
Fuck.
I can breathe again.
They’re her brother’s clothes.
“Ahh.” That’s all I got. I take the clothes and walk back into the main living room.
