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“I don’t like this.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that. But this is important to me. The infected and hellhounds bring enough unrest to our lives. We shouldn’t be adding to it by fighting with each other. That needs to stop, or we’ll never have any peace.”
He opened the door for me and turned on the entry light as I hung up my jacket and slipped off my shoes.
“And having something to focus on right now is good for me. It helps keep my mind distracted from Adam.”
Tor shrugged out of his jacket and hung it beside mine.
“We could play games instead.”
“Or we could find bigger shirts for you. That can’t be comfortable,” I said, noting the way his shirt seemed glued to his chest and only slightly looser on his abs. It stopped a little shy of the waist line of his leather pants. “Where’d the shirts that fit go?”
Tor glanced down at himself and ran a hand over his chest.
“They all fit like this.”
“What? No way.” I told myself I would have noticed that. Wouldn’t I? I couldn’t unnotice it now.
Instead of heading toward the kitchen like I’d intended, I went upstairs and started rummaging through drawers. Most of his shirts were extra large. I found two double X’s.
“Try this one on,” I said, tossing it to him. He caught it and reached back with one hand to pull his shirt off from the neckline.
I stared at the rolling flex of his muscles and felt a flush rise to my cheeks as he tugged the new shirt into place. It still hugged his shoulders and chest, showing off his bulk.
Frowning, I picked up the shirt he’d worn and looked at the tag. A double X.
“This feels the same,” he said.
“Because it is. Sorry. When we go out for supplies, we’ll watch for bigger shirts.”
He grunted and tugged the new one off and made no move to put another one on.
“Mya said that we needed to wear shirts. Warmer clothes make us look more human. The shirts are not comfortable.”
He scratched at his chest and rolled his shoulders.
“This is better. Thank you.”
Crap. Had I just given him permission to walk around shirtless? My gaze swept over his torso before I hurried from the room.
“I’ll start dinner.”
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asked, following behind me.
“Sure. A movie sounds good. While I don’t mind the cartoons, maybe we could watch something a little more adult tonight?”
He grunted and went to the living room, giving me some space to collect my thoughts in the kitchen. So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours that I hadn’t really had time to process what had transpired between Tor and me.
Seeing him shirtless had brought it all back home, though. The man was built. Chiseled and buffed to perfection. Any blindness I’d had to it before was now gone, and I didn’t like that. It was safer to not see Tor and not remember how amazing he’d been when he’d—
Another wave of heat washed through me. My attempt to squash it proved futile and frustrated me to no end. I didn’t want to feel any attraction to Tor based on principle. It would be like admitting that Adam was right, which I refused to do.
Adam had been wrong to send Tor to wake me up. He was disillusioned if he thought breaking up with me would force me into Tor’s arms. I’d been fine without a man in my life before Adam came along. I’d be fine again.
“What are you in the mood for tonight?” I asked. “Ravioli sound good?”
“Is it in the red paste?”
