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I wait about ten seconds for the sound of a toilet flushing or the sink running before I knock on it with my fist.
“What?” comes from the other side. It’s Thane, which is no real surprise.
“Could you hurry up?” I yell back.
“I’m in the shower,” he replies, as if I hadn’t figured that out.
Of course he’s in the shower.Myshower.
There are two other showers in the house, but he has to be soaking wet in mine.
“Well, hurry up! I can’t go to bed until I clean up!”
“Hold your horses.”
Now, that doesn’t make any fucking sense since I don’t have any horses.
Leaning my back against the hallway wall across from the bathroom door, I wait, not very patiently, clutching my clean clothes to my chest.
Finally, after I think my tired legs will require me to sit down on the floor and wait, the bathroom door opens.
There’s so much warm fog swirling around that I don’t even see him at first.
When the man finally appears, he’s mostly naked, other than a towel and…plastic wrapped around his stomach? There are water droplets scattered on his shoulders and chest and a pale blue towel tied low on his hips. Very, very low. Even lower is a distinct bulging outline that can only be his dick.
Damn. Is he hard, or is that…is that how long he is when he’s limp?
I shouldn’t care about that part of his body. I shouldn’t.
Except I can’t stop looking because, well, I don’t know why at first. Then it hits me.
“That’s my towel!” I exclaim, trying to avoid thinking about the part of my body that likes what it sees lurking behind my towel. I swear I don’t know what’s wrong with my dick lately. I never, ever gave it permission to get happy at the sight of a mostly naked man. Why is it suddenly betraying me?
Thane looks down, then back up at me with an amused grin spreading across his face. “Oops.”
His dimples are so cute I lose some of my anger. He’s smirked at me and looked smug plenty of times, but he’s never looked…happy.
“Do you want it back?” He reaches for the knot as if to untie it.
“No! Keep it. Jesus, fuck.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll find another towel.”
“Okay then.”
Instead of moving out of my way, he just starts removing the plastic from his waist.
“What’s that for?” I can’t help but ask.
“To keep my bandage dry. I wasn’t supposed to shower yet, but I felt gross,” he explains. “I may have used up all the plastic wrap in the kitchen.”
“Of course you did. Did you use up all the hot water too?”
“Probably.”
“Whatever,” I huff, and he thankfully wanders off back to his room.
