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My host snickered and dipped down the hallway for a moment. He came back still wearing nothing except boxer briefs, but now carrying a small stack of clothing. Extending one arm, he dangled a clean T-shirt my way.
“Last chance.”
I paused for a moment, reading the judgment in his eyes. Then, defiantly, I began wriggling my way out of my shirt.
“Don’t look, perv,” I instructed him.
He turned his head away in an expression of mock disgust. “Don’t worry.”
I watched him through the corner of one eye. Did he sneak a peek? Should it even matter? I still had a bra on. Despite his opinion, I was the furthest thing from prudish.
A few seconds later I was wearing the T-shirt he’d provided, which was black and red and printed with the words ‘Bronx Zoo’. It was tremendous on me, of course, and came down to my knees. But at least it was clean.
“You could say thanks, asshole,” he chastised me.
“Thanks, asshole.”
“You’re very welcome.”
The washer and dryer were stacked on top of each other, just inside the hallway. Jax loaded the machine, as I tried to keep my eyes from his troublesomely tight ass. It was a battle I was unfortunately losing.
He started the cycle, and our clothes began dancing away.
“You gonna put something on?” I scoffed.
“Sure. After I shower.”
I laughed bitterly and stood up. “Yeah, well I’m not sitting around while—”
“Yes you are.”
The sudden command in his voice caught my attention. But when I looked into those ice-blue eyes, I could swear I saw them soften.
“I’m covered in six different bodily fluids right now, including the miracle of childbirth,” he said wearily. “Relax and drink the rest of your wine. Then drink my glass of wine, and pour me a whiskey from up there.”
He pointed to a pile of bottles at the end of the counter that doubled as a makeshift bar.
“But for fuck’s sake, let me shower.”
~ 10 ~
HARPER
I’m not really sure why I stayed. It certainly wasn’t because the conversation was good, and the wine was even worse. It was late, I was tired, and I wasn’t even wearing my own clothes.
I think I just needed the company. Even if that company happened to be Jackson Ripley.
He left the door open of course, like a dog marking its territory. Steam from the shower rolled into the hallway, billowing outward in clouds of warm moisture. I’d tried sneaking a peek for the pure fuck of it, or maybe even to get him back for looking when I had my shirt off. But there was too much steam. The shower was just too hot.
Instead I occupied myself with touring the apartment, much as I’d done at Adrian’s. I could tell right away which parts of the decor belonged to Jax, and which had been brought in by Preston. Their clash of styles blended the place into a geek-chic bachelor pad that, oddly enough, was sorta right up my alley.
Dutifully I drank my wine, and poured the rest of Jax’s glass into my own as instructed. Then, begrudgingly, I found the glassware and even fixed him a whiskey.
By the time I returned to the living room, the shower was off and the steam was gone. Moving silently, I edged closer to the bathroom doorway. I heard nothing, but sensed movement.
Maybe you should just—
I risked a split-second glance, and in that glance I saw it all. Jax’s wide, naked back was thankfully turned to me, giving me full view of the two tight globes that made up his very nice, well-rounded ass. And I got a glimpse of something else as he was toweling off, too. Something that swung heavily against his inner thigh as he turned sideways, perhaps sensing my own presence…
