Repeat sex leads to relationships. Well it did as far as I knew.
After a beat, I looked up to find him watching me with that devilish smile lighting up his face. The one that didn’t help with that ember that was morphing into a roaring inferno inside me. It seemed to be a super power of his.
“Why, Blaire, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that was a pickup line.”
I plucked a piece off my muffin and threw it at him. He feigned mock anger, throwing his hand up to divert the crumb’s trajectory. It bounced off his palm and fell somewhere beyond where he was sitting. He looked around the floor before turning back to me.
“Hey, we can’t waste our valuable resources. You should be treating those crumbs like gold—every ounce counts, dammit.”
“Says the man who refuses to eat the outside of the muffin.”
“Maybe I was saving those for dire times.”
“Whatever,” I said, rising from the table. I collected both of our plates and deposited them in the kitchen sink. Joel was still sitting in the dining room chair when I was making my way to the office to do my yoga.
I made it to the room, pulling my mat from the office closet and set it down by the wall closest to the door before getting in position. Damn, he never answered my question. It was hard to clear my mind when every time I closed my eyes I kept imagining Joel’s shirt dripping wet with sweat, smelling his natural manly scent mixed with the saltiness that would make my mouth water.
My concentration was stretched beyond its limit when the shower kicked on. I imagined those strong hands rubbing lazily across his pecs and down his chest. His hand dipping between those legs, soaping up a place that made me salivate when I saw him in nothing but those little briefs that did almost nothing to conceal him.
When I moved to change positions, I loosened those thoughts, questioning what it would feel like to touch him. I mostly did a good job, until the shower turned off and I could hear him rustling around. Hopefully he was putting some clothes on. The sound of his feet padding across the floor marked the end of my yoga session, and I put everything back feeling even tenser than I was before.
I hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away all thoughts of Joel. Warm water pelted down on my head, and I tipped my neck back letting it rush over me. My senses were hyper-aware of everything. Every pass of my hands across my skin seemed to feel like a brush of electricity, sending little shocks through my system that made goosebumps prickle despite the heat bathing me. I tried focusing on the soap that slid between my palms creating a lather so thick it covered my hands like gloves. The soap slipped, dropping against the shower floor with a loud thud. A sound that couldn’t mask the very distinct creak of the bathroom door being opened.
I practically fell to the bottom of the tub in a haste to cover myself. I grabbed the clear shower curtain, pulling it tight against my body, while simultaneously trying to contort my limbs in a way to hide everything one would deem private.
“What the fuck?” I yelled at Joel who casually walked in as if he didn’t hear the shower running or have the common sense to know that you don’t barge in on people without knocking. He just walked in unfazed by the image of me bent over at the waist, ass in the air trying to retrieve that damn bar of soap.
His booming laughter only contributed to my compounding anger at his lack of respect for my personal boundaries. Apparently, he lacked common sense where personal space was concerned. Is this what it’s going to be like for the next two weeks? If so, I wasn’t sure both of us would make it out of there alive. It seemed we could benefit from a revisit of those rules.
“It’s not funny,” I said, cutting into his laughter.
“Yeah, it kinda is.”
He continued laughing like it were some gag reel and I was meant to relive my mortification with every fresh wave of laughter that erupted from his lips. Is he laughing at the picture of me curled up in the shower curtain, or is he actually laughing at me? “I’ve already seen everything there is to see, sweet cheeks. I’ve had a trial run of your goods. No need to be modest now.”
“What do you want? Get out!”
“All right, all right. Don’t have a coronary. I thought I forgot something in here.” He glanced around, but didn’t really seem to be looking for anything in particular. It was almost like he’d faked looking, and then quickly said, “Oh, guess it’s not here.”
“Great. Now, get out.”
He flashed me one of his panty-melting smiles and shut the door. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and my fist unclenched the balled up shower curtain that was now embedded with little indentations of my nails. I picked up the bar of soap and quickly rushed through the motions of washing up, ignoring the feel of my hands as they passed across my quivering flesh.
First order of business when I exited the shower? I locked the door.
I hovered there, just beside the door, body wrapped in a towel, trying to make out a hint of sound from the other side, preparing myself for any more surprises Joel had up his sleeve. After a few minutes, when I realized I was in the clear, I dried off and got ready. I swiped the condensation from the mirror, uncomfortably aware of the girl who stared back at me.
I looked at my face a little closer, somehow feeling taunted by the image that looked back at me. My hair, still limp with water, hung past my shoulders in a mousy brown color I always thought made me look a bit frumpy. I ran my comb through it, thinking about the highlights I’d been contemplating getting. Why had I been putting it off? Now, I was stuck with a gorgeous man in my house looking like Pollyanna from the country farm. I spent a couple more minutes passing over all of the things that made me look so ordinary. There wasn’t anything I could do about my hair, but I could shape up my eyebrows and wax my mustache. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little upkeep. Especially now that I have a little free time on my hands.
In the time it took me to finish getting ready with the additional primping I decided to do, I almost expected Joel to try to attempt round two of barging in on me, but when I left the bathroom, I noticed he was back to sitting on the couch. This time appropriately dressed.
Candlelight flooded the room—bundles of wavering flames glowed in the depths, throwing shadows of Joel’s face across the walls. I couldn’t see those hypnotic emerald orbs, but I felt them. The shadows revealed how he watched me, tracing my faltered steps as I drew nearer. I wondered what he saw. Could he tell I freshened up with him in mind? A blush crept up my neck at the thought of him imagining me naked. He saw everything. And we weren’t both naked or drunk. Was he regretting being stuck here with Sarah Simpleton? I imagined he was used to landing nice, polished, expensive-looking women who didn’t leave the house without a fresh waxing and perfect hair and makeup. It was enough to make the most confident woman double-check her compact.
“At least you’re smart enough to put some clothes on,” I mumbled, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. It still felt too close, but I didn’t want him to think I was purposely avoiding him because of the bathroom situation. I dealt with all kinds of people at the law firm. I could handle a hot man and good sex. No problem.
“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t. I wasn’t able to see much in there.”
“Yeah, about that. Do we need to go over simple manners while you’re here? I thought we established some ground rules, but I didn’t think I would have to cover the basics.”