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I hear another shower turn on, and I know that Quinn is naked somewhere nearby.
All that smooth, pale skin, wet and gleaming.
I squeeze my eyes shut and get to washing. It’s quick and methodical. And when I step out a few minutes later, clad only in athletic shorts, I see Quinn wrenching the shower curtain open, his hair tangled and soaked, water dripping down his shoulders and chest.
And he’s completely naked, his towel in his hand.
Our eyes meet and I feel my cheeks flush.
Fuck, he’s hung. Even half-hard, it’s still long and thick and uncut, the plump head peeking out from the foreskin.
Jesus, that image is forever burned in my brain.
I quickly turn my gaze away from him with a muttered apology, pushing my way back out into the storm.
“Grey!” he calls out, but I don’t stop. Nope. I just keep on going.
If I stop, I may stay. And if I stay, I may do something I can’t take back.
* * *
The trailer door is opened a while later, and I hear Quinn moving around. I lay in the back, under my sleeping bag, trying not to think about his dick.
Do not think about it.
“Grey,” Quinn’s voice is soft and concerned.
“Back here,” I reply and sit up, pretending like I was doing something, anything other than having these inappropriate thoughts.
“Hey,” he says, leaning up against the wall, clad only in tight green boxer briefs. I can see the outline of his abs in the dim lighting.
I don’t blame him for dressing like this. It’s humid in here, the storm outside only making the air thicker. And here I am, sweating under my sleeping bag, trying to hide.
“Aren’t you dying under there?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
I shrug like it’s nothing, when it absolutely is. I’m going to pass out from heat stroke.
“Come on, get out from under there…. Let’s open some windows and just chill.”
I eye him warily but he just smiles softly at me, so I slowly peel the sleeping bag back, revealing the fact that I’m still shirtless and only in my athletic shorts. Quinn’s breath hitches, his gaze heavy on me. I know I’m not much to look at. Not like him.
You’re perfection.
My hand freezes, and Quinn’s suddenly moving back to the other side of the trailer.
“Come on, Grey,” he begins, clearing his throat. “You saw my tattoo earlier. Let me show you closer. Nothing else to do at the moment.”
Well, that’s not going to help the direction of my thoughts, but my body still slides out of my sleeping bag and follows him through the kitchen to the small table that’s now folded out into a bed.
Because I’m not a coward and I can behave like an adult in this situation.
I am an adult.
I stop in front of Quinn, and he bites down on his bottom lip, his hair still damp from the shower. And I can smell him, that body wash he uses lingering between us.
“So, uh, whatcha got?” I manage to say, my voice rough.
“Let me show you,” he replies, his lip popping out, wet and swollen.
