My hand meets only air.
I pull back the shower curtain with a frown and look to where I had hung my towel up.
It's not there.
I look around, my frown deepening. My clothes aren't where I left them on the sink, either.
My eyes go wide. Suddenly I realize what's happening—what the sound was that I heard.
"TRISTAN!" I scream.
He's already there on the other side of the door, chuckling.
"Are youkiddingme?!" I shout. "Youstolemyclothes?!"
I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
I let out a low growl and start pacing the bathroom. "Come on Tristan, I don't have time for this! Just give me my clothes back! Or at least give me a towel, damnit."
He chuckles again. "Nah, I think I'd rather watch you fumble your way through this.” He laughs again. “You know, I did offer to help with your outfit. Maybe next time you'll take me up on it instead of getting defensive and yelling at me. Now you're stuck with an outfit that Iknowyou're not happy with."
"Fuck you, Tristan!" I explode, trembling with fury. I hate, more than anything, when men hold power over me. And right now, standing wet and naked on the cold porcelain tile, I feel as powerless as I have in a long time. "I would rather go through my entire day naked than shower with you."
This time he lets out a loud, raucous laugh. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what it looks like when water is running down my naked body. You'd actually be drooling at the chance." I don't even have to imagine the smug look that I know is on his face.
A shiver runs through my body and I'm so glad he can't see me right now. He would never be able to miss the way my nipples harden at that thought.
"You just keep telling yourself that," I snap. "Whatever keeps your precious ego inflated."
I keep pacing, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get out of here. "You know you really are the worst kind of asshole," I growl through clenched teeth. "Either you make me sit in here, wet and cold, until you take pity on me and let me out, or you make me suffer the humiliation of walking out of here naked. Either way, I repeat: you are anasshole."
I can easily picture his quiet grin on the other side of the door.
"Oh my god," I realize quietly. I stop pacing and stare, dumbfounded, at the door. "You really don't think I'll do it."
"I know you won't," he mocks. "That's why this is fun."
If it were anyone else, or any other situation, he'd be absolutely right. I would never let someone see me naked like this. It's not that I'm ashamed of my body, because I'm not—I work hard in the gym and I'm proud of the way my body looks. But seeing me fully naked is an intimate thing, something that only one other boy has ever seen. Other boyfriends only ever saw me in the dark, or partially clothed. I never wanted to give them the space or time to see my body. It felt like an intimate secret that I didn't want to share with just anyone.
Despite all of that, there's one difference in this situation: I hate seeing Tristan win. I have no problem showing myself if it means beating him at his own game. Hell, of all the reasons to show off my naked body, this is probably at the top of the list.
And all of a sudden, I'm the one who's grinning.
I straighten up and lift my chin. Before I can think too hard about what I'm about to do, I open the door and step out into the hallway.
Tristan is leaning on the railing, arms crossed, with a giant smirk on his face. He's enjoying my torture way too much. But when he sees me step out of the bathroom, his entire demeanor changes. His eyes go wide.
Then his gaze begins trailing down my body. I can feel the blush light my face on fire, but I don't break my stare—I won't give him the satisfaction of my embarrassment. I keep my focus locked on his face as I walk slowly toward him. His eyes snap up to meet mine once I'm standing in front of him.
His shock over my action and obvious appreciation of my body immediately inject me with confidence. I push my breasts forward and cock my hip to the side to accentuate my curves. Of all the power games we play, in this moment, I know I’ve won this round. And I want nothing more than to make sure he knows that.
I smirk at his expression. "You know," I purr, tracing my finger down the front of his shirt, "it's not exactly the best proof of your social prowess if you have to trick a girl into getting naked and wet for you."
I saunter down the hallway to my bedroom and slam the door behind me.
6
Tristan