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"Oh no," she coos in a sympathetic tone while she studies my clothing. "You're all wet, aren't you? Poor baby. You get those soppy clothes off while I find some dry stuff for you to wear. There's a blanket on the sofa that you can wrap yourself in while I get clothes for you."
She turns away, hurrying toward a hallway. I see a staircase to the left of the front door, but she breezes right past it.
I clear my throat. "Is there, ah, anyone else here?"
"Nope. Just us." She flashes me a grin over her shoulder. "Afraid I'll attack you while you sleep? I might do that, but only if you want me to."
She's flirting with me, isn't she?
Maybe my holiday started out as a disaster, but things are looking up now.
Chapter Two
Sam
Did I just flirt with a stranger I picked up on the road? Sure, I enjoy flirting with guys. But I don't even know his name. I couldn't help myself, though. He is a total cutie-pie, and I love his British accent. While I try to avoid thinking about the anonymous man in my living room, I search for something my guest can wear. Mostly, I've got women's clothing because I am a woman, after all. Digging around in the walk-in closet in my bedroom, I discover an old box that has some clothes in it. Men's clothes. Don't think the sizes are quite right for the cutie-pie in the living room, but it'll have to do.
With a bundle of clothes in my arms, I head back out there.
And I freeze just past the end of the hall, alongside the stairs to the second floor.
My guest is standing in front of the fire, naked. I mean one hundred percent naked. Since he's facing away from me, I get a spectacular view of his backside and his taut ass. This guy has muscles, though not the bulging, super-ripped kind. No, he has the body of a man who cares about staying in shape but isn't obsessed with exercising. I can't stop my gaze from exploring every inch of him, from his muscular shoulders down to his toned thighs. I bet he's got stamina in the bedroom.
Why am I thinking about sex? He's a stranger.
He turns around, his eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips. The heat of the fire must feel fantastic to inspire an expression like that.
And wow, I can see everything. He has a great chest, but it's the area between his hips that captures my attention and refuses to let me look away. His dick hangs slack, but I can tell it will be long and sleek when he gets aroused. Not a single vein mars that perfect cock. I might be starting to drool, but I don't care. No woman could stop herself from salivating over a man who has that kind of beautiful body. I love his face too, of course. He's adorable, with those blue eyes that I saw earlier and that slightly crooked nose, not to mention lips that are neither too small nor too big, just right for kissing.
But oh, that dick. I'm getting tingly all over just looking at it.
My hold on the clothes in my arms falters, and a few items flop onto the floor.
The naked cutie's eyes pop open, then flare wide. He shields his privates with his hands, glancing around as if he's searching for something. "Ah, sorry. I didn't think you'd be back so soon, and I was cold, so I—" He grimaces. "Sorry. The fire felt good."
Damn, it's endearing how he keeps saying "sorry" while blushing.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I've seen naked men before." My cheeks have started to feel warm, and so have other parts of me. I snag the clothes that I'd dropped and hustle over to the sofa to drop all the items on the cushions. "Here you go. Should be something in this bundle that you can wear. I'll go make some hot cocoa. Or would you prefer tea?"
"Whatever you're having is fine with me."
"Okay. Back in a jiff."
I force myself to walk at a normal pace as I enter the open kitchen, which has only a bar separating it from the living room. My guest seems embarrassed by his full frontal and rear exposure, so pretending I didn't notice his hot bod or his gorgeous manly bits seems like the best way to handle the situation. I love his hair too, the way it's the same color as milk chocolate. Or maybe it's more like wet beach sand, which is darker than the dry version.
Wet. I shouldn't have thought that word, because now I'm dreaming up some naughty fantasies involving water.
Get a grip, girl.Chastising myself doesn't help, but focusing on the task at hand does. I get the cocoa powder out of the cupboard, grab the sugar bowl, and bring out a carton of milk. Ooh, I need vanilla too. Cocoa tastes even yummier that way. While I toss ingredients into two mugs, I keep my back to the living room. I can hear that sexy cutie-pie getting dressed, thanks to the rustling sounds his clothes make.
I've just dropped marshmallows into the cocoa when the hottie in the living room speaks.
"All good now," he says. "Safe to turn around."
With a mug in each hand, I turn around and march back into the living room.
He's wearing a purple and blue sweater that drapes over his torso like it was designed for a sumo wrestler. His pants, on the other hand, seem one size too small. I don't mind the way the blue jeans cling to his legs and accentuate the bulge of his cock. No, I don't mind that at all. But I can only see that bulge when he lifts the hem of the sweater to pooch it out to show me how overly large it is.
"I think you and I could both fit in this," he says, "and invite several of our mates to join us."
