It was the third time I’d come face to face with this guy, and each and every time, I’d embarrassed myself beyond what could reasonably be called cute. Sure, in the last few years I had become less shy, going from painfully shy to just plain shy, so I didn’t really care all that much about what had happened that first night I met him, but…him seeing me naked was just the cherry on top of everything, and it was too much.
He cleared his throat and looked down at me. “Hi.”
Hi? That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.
“This wasn’t the welcome I was expecting, especially since I wasn’t expecting any welcome at all.”
I cleared my throat too, because he had done it and it was something to do. I tried to keep my eyes on his even though I was practically shaking with the need to run.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to welcome anyone.” I managed to squeak out the words after some time. I swallowed and lowered my voice. “Please don’t look at me.”
That right arm tightened around my naked waist as he brought us to an upright position so I was no longer lying on him. Make no mistake, I was still plastered to his body, and I wasn’t thinking of letting him go anytime soon either. My poor heart thundering, our eyes met for a very brief second.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “To be completely honest with you, I’m not sure if I can do that.”
I wished I were the kind of girl who would offer him a light smirk, maybe a light slap on his chest, and then just turn around and walk away, maybe even give him a seductive wink over my shoulder before waltzing into my room as he watches my naked ass sway for him and act like I was completely fine being naked in front of strangers. Needless to say, I wasn’t that kind of girl—never had been. So, instead, I frowned up at him. “Are you kidding me?” I asked in a whisper when I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I needed at least a week to process what had happened in the last ten minutes.
He offered me a small smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like… I just meant I’m not sure if I can look away from your face—never mind, you wouldn’t understand. I won’t look down.” I couldn’t return his gaze, so I looked at his lips when they moved. “Promise.”
His palm, which was splayed open at the small of my back, slowly moved up a few inches, and I accidentally arched into him. Goose bumps were rising on my skin all over my body, and the drops of water falling from my wet hair onto my shoulders and back weren’t helping matters. He was warm and I was freezing.
“I’m gonna need that towel,” I said, looking away as I tried to ignore the fact that I was starting to feel my nipples getting hard. It wasn’t because I could feel his abs contract against me or because that arm around me was doing things to me, too, but because it was getting chilly. Could he feel it too?
“Can you lean down with me so I can get it? Or can you look away so—”
Dylan took his hand off of my back, and the sudden loss of the warmth of his skin on mine caused a small shiver to go through my body. He tilted his head up toward the ceiling and gripped the edge of the leather couch. Keeping my eyes on him, on those bulging arms, I slowly let go of his shirt, peeled myself off of him, and had to open and close my hands a few times to get rid of the tingles in my fingers. Still keeping my eyes on him to make sure he wasn’t looking, I quickly leaned down and grabbed the towel from the floor. Instead of wrapping it around me again, where it would cover practically nothing, I decided to hold it up horizontally to cover more area. At least that way, instead of dancing on the edge of flashing him my private parts, only my backside would be open, and I was counting on there being no more surprise guests.
Now that he was looking at the ceiling and not at me, I took my time to take in all of him. Good Lord, Dylan Reed is standing right in front of me. I noticed the jeans, the damp t-shirt that fit him a little too perfectly, the wide shoulders. His arms looked bigger than I’d remembered, and I got stuck looking at that part of his body a little longer. They’d been no matchsticks before, but still. He was all hard muscle, nothing extreme, just toned, hard perfection. Even his freaking forearms looked firm and perfect with a light dusting of hair.