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“Good girl.”
The running water continued to taunt her from the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and steam billowed out through the sliver of space. Seemed like her previous reminder about him needing to turn on the exhaust fan hadn’t stuck. There was even a sign on the bathroom mirror telling guests to do so!
Keaton never was very good at following instructions.
Huffing, she rose from the bed and walked over, reaching inside and feeling around with the intention of flipping the fan’s switch, but her arm bumped the door open a little farther. The mirror was quickly being consumed by fog, but a small, clear space reflected slick bare skin.
Her senses hummed in awareness and every change in the rushing sound caused by him moving under the spray brought a dirty image to her mind. She flicked the fan switch and then withdrew her hand, sagging back against the bedroom wall.
The water was still running but it sounded sharper now, like he’d opened the sliding door to the shower and had poked his head out. “August?”
“I turned the fan on because you forgot.” She cringed. Did he think she was trying to sneak a peek at him? She’dwantedto.
Because no matter how many times she told herself today that last night was a onetime deal, something about the words seemed to slide out of her brain like a foot over a banana peel.
It’ll end up hurting you like stepping on a banana peel, too. Emotional injury incoming.
“Why don’t you join me?” he asked, his voice full of teasing. He thought she wouldn’t do it, the asshole. “Roomie.”
This was what Keatonalwaysdid. He put barriers in place by challenging her and feeling confident she wouldn’t take the bait, because then she’d pull away and the distance between them would be maintained. He made himself safe by gettingherto enforce the boundaries. She wasn’t naive. Keaton’s games were as transparent as glass with the sun shining through it.
“The water’s fine.” His dark, raspy chuckle made her bristle. “Or are you heading off to find yourself a new room?”
“I hate you,” she muttered under her breath.
Yet a shiver still went through her. The thought of being with Keaton again sent fire through her veins. The way he touched her...it was like no man who’d touched her before. With him she felt new and whole and blissfully content.
It was a feeling she’d craved all her life. A feeling she’d decided to give up on when faced with the chaos of dating, because it felt like reaching for the moon and asking for magic. That’s why she wanted something that wasn’t based on intangible things like chemistry and spark and sexual attraction.
Those things could blow up in your face. Shared goals and dreams and hobbies were so much safer.
Maybe she just needed to prove that he didn’t have an effect on her—even if that was totally a lie. But she could act, right? She could pretend.
Against her better judgment, she pushed the door to the bathroom open wider. The steam billowed out and the heavy, warm air created immediate dampness on her bare arms. She stepped into the bathroom, a knot of anticipation in her stomach. The standing shower was made of textured glass, and it offered a hazy view of Keaton from head to toe, except the gap where he’d stuck his head out before and water was splattered on the tiles.
That sliver showed smooth water-speckled skin, cut muscles and one-half of the most wicked smile August had ever seen.
“What are you doing?” she asked, being careful to keep her eyes high. But it was useless. Keaton naked was a sight to behold.
“Trying to save water.” He grinned.
He braced one forearm against the wall near where the door opened and stood there, body partially exposed through the gap. He was like a modern-day David, his perfect body sculpted as if from marble with every muscle toned and taut, every line clean and smooth.
And lower... She gulped.
You can’t blame this on the heat of the moment. This is premeditated.
If she joined him now, there would be nothing on which to blame her actions.
Her brain was so good at drawing boundaries but her heart wasn’t always so good at following them. She bit down on her lip, movement stalled by the wave of desire that washed through her. Keaton grabbed a bar of soap, eyes meeting hers.
The muscles in his arms and his chest flexed as he worked the white bar over his skin, leaving trails of lather everywhere. His hand dipped lower. He wouldn’t...
Oh.
Keaton ran the soap over himself, from the soft trail of hair from his belly button down to the hard, strong length of him. The fog and textured glass hid some of the details, giving her only a sliver of the action, but her mind could easily sketch in the rest.
“I can soap you up, too, August.” Fire burned in his green eyes.
