“Hey, Emily! Can I borrow a towel?” came a shout from upstairs.
I glared up at the ceiling. Now he wanted a towel, too? “What’s wrong with the one you brought with you?” I yelled back from my couch.
“It’s wet!”
Oh, for God’s sake! “Hold on a minute! Don’t drip water everywhere or I’m making you mop the floor! On your hands and knees!”
Ooh, and you should totally watch while he’s doing that, a voice that sounded suspiciously like a chorus of Lucy and Skye said. Men who clean are extra hot.
No, I did not need to see that or think about it…or imagine his back and arm muscles flexing while he cleaned my floor.
Don’t forget those wide shoulders…
No, no, no. What I needed was to kick the sexy pest out of the house as soon as possible. And I most certainly would not wonder why my face felt so warm at the moment.
I got off the couch and went upstairs, grumbling under my breath about men who wanted more than what they’d agreed to. I wasn’t a hotel! On the other hand, Killian was shameless enough to parade around naked if he got a chance. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep draped in a towel in the first place. Hell, if I screamed at him to cover himself, something in his brain might break from the overexertion of trying to figure out why a woman wouldn’t want to see his naked body.
Okay. Maybe some women would want to see him nude. Well…not just some, but a lot of women. But I wasn’t one of them. I just thought he’d make a great cover model because photography hadn’t advanced enough to capture a subject’s personality.
I looked through the linen closet’s neatly folded stacks of towels. My gaze fell on the blue one first, but then I noticed the pink one right under it. Well, well, well. Feeling spiteful, I pulled that one from the stack, then, making sure to turn my head away, I threw the towel into the guest bathroom. “Here!”
“Thank you!” His response was so cheery that I could almost picture him waving as well.
Okay, this was still a small price to pay for a month of peace and quiet. I clamped down on the terrible urge to sneak a peek at his bare body and took firm, purposeful steps back to the living room. I should get back to the story—and finally finish the first sex scene between Molly and Ryan. I felt awful about stopping in mid-kiss and leaving the characters there for more than twenty-four hours. My couple deserved better treatment. Maybe I should add an extra sex scene. And a baby epilogue. My readers loved babies.
I sat down on the couch with the computer on my lap. I found the spot I’d marked for a full sex scene toward the end of the document.
“Oh yeah, baby,” I murmured. “You’re going to get laid today. Woohoo!”
“Who’s getting laid?”
I almost jumped. My laptop tilted and I grabbed it fast. After placing it on the table, I spun around to face Killian. Who was standing behind me in nothing but the pink towel. Holy shit.
He smelled fresh with a hint of soap, and looked as good as he smelled. His skin gleamed as a couple drops of water fell from his still-damp hair and slid down his naked shoulder and ropey arm, tracing an irregular path of the crevasses between the lean muscles. Those eyelashes were incredibly thick, and his eyes so, so blue. Regardless of what I thought of his personality, he was scrumptious. I felt an urge to lick all the water off him that the towel had missed.
And as soon as I realized that, I blinked and wanted to smack myself for thinking with my hormones. Since I couldn’t do that without appearing weird, I opted for a you’re not welcome here anymore expression instead.
“Shouldn’t you be going home now?” I said coolly.
“Don’t worry, I will. Soon as I finish air-drying my chest hair.”
It was the most ludicrous thing I’d ever heard coming out of a man’s mouth. For one thing, he didn’t have enough chest hair to dry.
I caught myself before I asked whether he had to air-dry his pubic hair as well. Killian wouldn’t be scandalized. Or become self-aware enough to realize how ridiculous his explanation about air-drying chest hair was. No, he’d just laugh, say, “Now that you mention it…” and whip the towel from around his waist.
I did not need to see his cock. Ever. No matter how big it might be. And I could tell it’d be big and impressive. God had been unfair when he’d created Killian. Why stop at a pretty face and a hard body?
“Hey, you got a beer?” Killian asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m not a grocery store.” Besides, he owed me a favor, not the other way around. I’d even lent him my good pink towel.
“You took all the Hop Hop Hooray. Sunny told me the store has no clue when there’ll be more.” He raised a finger. “Just one. I promise I won’t bother you again.”
The man was utterly shameless. “You promised to be quiet,” I reminded him. “And yet I can hear you.”
“Is my voice annoying you?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” I lied.