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She didn’t look up, though, and I frowned.
Touching her cheek, she looked up at me with surprise.
“What are you doing?”
She grinned, then spoke a little loudly as she said, “I took my transmitter off. It’s not waterproof.”
I watched as she took it out of her pocket and showed it to me.
Understanding dawned, and I gestured for her to follow me inside.
She did, and when she was inside my kitchen, she frowned and looked around, worried now that she was dripping on the floor.
“It’s waterproof,” I said. “I use the same shit in my bathroom.”
Except she wasn’t looking at me, so she didn’t hear a word.
Knowing that she was worried about getting it wet, I walked to the washer and dryer and snatched up two clean towels, tossing one her way when I saw her staring at me.
She caught it expertly, but instead of drying herself off, she dried off the transmitter.
“It’s actually ‘water-resistant’ they say.” She placed it on the counter next to my phone and keys that I’d dropped the moment I got inside. “But water-resistant and waterproof are two totally different things in the grand scheme of things.”
Yes, they were.
She dried off her hair next, not stopping until almost all of the excess water was out.
Then she reached for her shirt.
I swallowed my tongue—or about did, anyhow—when her shirt was gone and her wet bra containing her full breasts was the only thing left.
“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath.
She looked up then, her wet curls falling into her face, and grinned.
“What?” she asked, eyes focused entirely on me.
I gestured to her body. To her wet bra with those turgid, tan nipples standing out so prominently that it was all I could see.
She looked down and scrunched up her face, as if the thought of a wet bra showing her nipples hadn’t occurred to her.
“Shit,” she said, covering them up with one arm.
That was when I decided ‘fuck it.’
I moved toward her, my arms going around her waist, and hauled her into my body.
“Don’t cover yourself up,” I said, making sure she could see my mouth.
She reached for her transmitter and fitted it into place, then looked up at me.
“It was bothering me that I couldn’t hear your voice,” she paused. “Though the growly thing you did when you did it,” she patted my chest with her hand. “Came out loud and clear.”
My smirk was shameless as I picked her up and spun her around to sit on the counter of my bar.
She bit her lip and looked down at me.
“What’s with us and bars?” she wondered loudly.
