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Fuck it! “When they’re enormous.” He made a crude hand gesture to emphasize their size. “What are you, like an F cup or something?”
“It’s hardly your business, but a G. A 38G. Sometimes an H.”
Be still his thumping heart.
He found himself a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt. Clothing for her proved a little trickier. In the end he settled for an old bit of knitwear and a pair of boxers, and passed them over.
“Is there somewhere I can get changed without you standing over me?” she asked, impertinent nose hoisted in the air.
Huh! Uh, no chance! Did she think he was born yesterday? “Lady, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Fair enough.” She handed him the clothes back, which was madness considering she was shaking so hard, not to mention dripping cold water onto the floor.
“What are you doing? Put them on.”
“I’m not stripping off in front of you.”
“Don’t be fucking dumb.” He shoved the garments back into her arms.
“Not happening.”
Really, they were going to play tug o’ war over this. “Turn the fuck around if you don’t want me to see.” That got the clothing back into her arms.
“All right, but don’t fucking stare at me.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
Turned out, Jodi wasn’t just heavy on top, she had an arse to match. And in the immortal words of Freddie Mercury, fat-bottomed girls made his rocking world go ’round. He hummed the tune as she dressed. Wasn’t anything he liked more than a bit of flesh with a wibble to it.
Paul curled his fingers into fists as she carefully rolled down a pair of harlequin-style leggings that emphasised everything and hid zilch, then wriggled into his boxers. Better that than he wound up reaching for all her voluptuousness. She’d smack him in the teeth if he did, and he’d deserve it.
But hell, it would be fucking epic if he could spin her about and nosedive straight into her cleavage. He had been praying for entertainment, after all.
Except…She’s a criminal, moron. A thief, and a bus murderer.
Yeah, apparently that didn’t tip the scales. The really irritating thing was, if it’d been Ash or Xane she’d inadvertently kidnapped, they’d probably have scored by now. He, on the other hand, was as likely to earn himself a slap around the lugholes as a good jaffle.
“Top.” She waved an arm at him until he handed her the jumper, then quickly pulled it on.
“You won’t warm up if your underwear’s still wet,” he helpfully pointed out.
“I know that.” Down came the bra straps, one arm and then the other, before she unhooked the back and pulled the whole thing off without showing him so much as a smidge of boob.
“Spoilsport. I’d let you watch.”
“Like you’re actually leaving anything to the imagination.”
That prompted a chuckle. She didnotknow. “Lap it up, darlin’.” He smoothed his hands down the ridges of his chest and abs, letting them come to rest at the top of the towel. It got a smile out of her, even if she followed it with a dismissive snort.
“Think you’re sexy, do you?”
“I don’t just think it…”
“Whatever.”
Peeved, he stalked over to the bed and grabbed the duvet. Xane had been in that bed, so he gave it a good shake in case there were any wrappers or toys lurking in its folds, and tried not to think about what might have been spilled on it. Then he returned to Jodi’s side. “Here.” He wrapped the duvet around her shoulders. “I don’t want you to get hypothermia.” Also, if she covered up, there was a higher chance of his brain functioning.
“Thanks.” She snuggled up, watching him. After a minute or two, she sank onto the floor.
