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I didn’t realize in doing so that my towel split to reveal… quite a bit of thigh until I noticed Wells’s gaze there.
“Oh,” he said, shaking his head as he was caught, his gaze moving to the shower. His brows drew together.
“That’s… weird,” he decided, then moved over to try the sink. And flushed the toilet. “It’s just the shower,” he said.
“It’s okay. I don’t need a shower. I was just—“
“Use mine,” he cut me off. “Yeah,” he said with more conviction at my drawn-together brows. “Use mine,” he said, already turning to walk out of the room.
I followed, heart hammering at the idea of being naked just one door away from him.
This was probably a terrible idea.
Or the best one I could ever make.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mari
It felt downright scandalous as I climbed into his glass shower enclosure, hyper-aware of his footsteps on the other side of the door as he got himself ready for bed.
It was even more intimate to reach for his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. By the time I was done, I could smell him all over me.
And, what’s more, I liked that way more than was appropriate.
Desire pinged off every last nerve ending as I forced myself to climb out of the shower, my skin red from the hot water, and started to dry myself off.
It wasn’t until I moved over to the vanity, catching sight of myself in the mirror, that I finally realized something.
I’d forgotten my pile of clothes on the counter in the guest bathroom.
“Ah, Wells?” I called again, squeezing my eyes shut at my own stupidity as I heard him walking closer.
“Yeah?”
“I forgot my clothes,” I admitted.
“Oh, I’ll grab them.”
“They’re on the counter in the bathroom,” I told him.
“Be right back,” he said.
Really, I didn’t plan on it.
Not consciously, at least.
I heard his footsteps moving back toward the door.
I reached for the knob, knowing it was expected for me just to shove my hand out of a crack to grab the clothes.
But, instead, I wrenched it completely open.
I swear Wells nearly dropped the entire pile of clothes as his body stiffened and eyes widened.
I felt a similar shock, realizing that Wells slept in lightweight pajama pants… and nothing else.
A sizzle seared down my spine and spread outward as my gaze slid from his handsome face to his bare chest. I knew under his suit that he was well-built, but I couldn’t have anticipated the tight cords of muscle of his forearms, or the deep indents of his abdominal muscles. And certainly not that deep V shape that disappeared into his low-slung pants.
