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Sure, I really wanted to die from embarrassment today. “Just fine! Slept through the night.”
“Good. I see you had dinner.”
He was in the bedroom. Fantastic.Andthe door was open. “I did, it was good. How was your night?”
His silence made my heart skip a beat. I was being too nice, wasn’t I? “I had a three-way with two models and finally got the smell of pussy off my face after washing three times,” he finally replied, making me regret asking.
Charming as always.
“Since when do you ask questions like that?” he demanded, and his voice was louder. He was closer. “I’m coming in.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“I told you already. You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen. You don’t sound right.”
Why would a man like him care about modesty? He had a way of doing exactly what he wanted, whenever he wanted, to whomever he wanted. All I could do was put an arm across my chest, though that didn’t begin to cover my boobs. I was barely able to do it in time before he appeared in the doorway.
I was on full display for him as he watched through the glass separating us. His eyes went wide before narrowing dangerously.
“I fell,” I admitted, though it wasn’t easy to speak those two little words with pride threatening to choke me.
“Yeah, so I see. I fucking told you, didn’t I? What if you had broken something?” He was already halfway through the room before he paused, looking me over. “Did you break something?”
“I don’t think so. I’m just sore.”
“Yeah, well, your pride probably hurts worse than anything else.” He wasn’t wrong about that.
“I’m naked,” I pointed out while trying in vain to cover myself up.
“Yeah, no shit.” He was dressed in loose athletic pants, sneakers, and a T-shirt. When he started kicking off his shoes, I worked my way into a sitting position, pressing my back to the wall.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.
“I’m trying not to get my shoes wet.” He peeled off his socks in quick, almost angry movements. “I swear, you are determined to break your fucking neck, and all you end up doing is inconveniencing everybody around you.”
Heat flared in my chest before rushing up and out of my mouth. “Fuck off! What kind of thing is that to say to somebody?”
“Sorry if I’m a little frustrated when you can’t be bothered to take care of yourself.”
“I thought that’s what I was trying to do here. All I need is for you to help me get back on my feet.” I left out the part where I would appreciate it if he didn’t ogle my body. Not only because it would be too immature to bring it up, but I was already on full display, no matter how I tried to cover myself with my crossed arms.
When he peeled off his T-shirt, I forgot how to breathe. “What…” I croaked.
“Just stop talking, okay?” He looked me over while I tried in vain to keep from staring at his expertly chiseled chest and eight-pack abs. His shoulders and arms bulged with muscle, and I wished I could remember being carried in them.
No wonder he was able to carry me all that way.
“How far did you get?” he asked, standing outside the stall. “With the shower, I mean.”
“Not far. I didn’t do anything, really.”
“If only somebody had warned you about this…” His sarcastic tone begged for a sharp reply, but I was exhausted.
Instead, I asked, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“No.” He dropped his pants, and I wondered how I was supposed to function with him wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that did nothing to conceal the almost obnoxious bulge at his crotch. A bulge that extended down his thigh.
No wonder he was so popular.
