Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
It was a funny sight. And sexy, but that went without saying. His expression changed, the skepticism morphing into mild disbelief, then softening into a “Huh.” But he wasn’t done. His gaze found mine, and I saw the stubbornness coming from a mile away. Jaw set, eyes narrowed, he headed for the doorway.
“You’re a fuckin’ terrible influence, Trace,” he muttered. Still not done. He came to an abrupt stop while I was failing to withhold my laughter, and he came back. “I’d like one more.”
You can have as many as you want, honey.
I dragged two of them through the Nutella and extended them to him, and then he was gone, stalking toward the bathroom.
“Just admit I’m right!” I called, following him. I treated myself to a couple dipped pretzel sticks on the way, thinking about Ben’s stick and how I could get that dipped too.
He’d left the bathroom door open. “I’ve discovered that every time I say something nice to you, you use it against me. So congrats. You’re forever a jackass, kid.”
I love the way we banter. We should keep doing it.
I came to a stop when I spotted him shedding his clothes in front of the shower. There was no forgetting his immodesty last night, but this time…I didn’t look away. I forced myself to remain casual; this was nothing weird. We were just shooting the shit as he got ready to shower. He couldn’t be too bothered if he left the door open. We might as well be in the showers at a gym. Right?
“Every time?” I questioned. “You subtly imply I’m a bright spot. I only figured that out because I’m a genius. Have you said anything else?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “A genius would know.”
I sucked my teeth.
And then…he dropped his boxer briefs, so I dropped my vocabulary.
What were words?
Just like yesterday, he was completely unfazed. He stepped into the shower and didn’t even wait for the water to warm up properly. Which…could have something to do with his being used to communal showers.
I ducked my gaze for a moment, feeling like a moron, just not enough to leave. Instead, I hopped up to sit on the long counter and eat pretzel sticks.
Well…I kinda forgot about the eating part when he began soaping up.
I had to do something, say something, unless I wanted to be the perv who just stared.
What a perfect fucking ass, though. His whole body. His thighs. The man had calf game too. He was stocky in the hottest way. Plain solid.
“So, uh…” Do you wanna fuck? “Are you looking forward to baseball season?”
Only two months and change to go!
I was so smooth.
He glanced at me over his shoulder for a second, before he closed his eyes and soaped up his face too. “Sure. More twins to hate.”
“And tigers,” I pointed out.
“And the Indians,” he muttered.
“We say Native Americans today, you know.” Last I’d heard, the team was changing their name.
He laughed and stepped under the spray.
I smiled. “Not a Cleveland fan, I take it?”
“Who the fuck is, Trace?”
He had a point.
Fuck Cleveland.
Also, fuck the teams the Sox faced. I cared more about the Cubs’ rivalries.
I could go on. Fuck him for not turning around when he washed his junk.
Fuck the Sox.
Fuck me. I finally got a glimpse and—
“All right, I’m clean.”
“You sure?” Fuck, the words left me before I could stop them.
In my defense, he was plenty dirty from where I was sitting.
“Zestfully so. Your turn.”
Zest what?
“By the way, you should get one of those shower-glass wipers,” he told me, opening the shower door. “The longer you let limescale and calcium buildup stick to the glass, the harder it is to clean off.”
I scratched my forehead. He sounded like Ma now. She was always bitching about hard water.
“I’ll get right on that.” I jumped off the counter and hauled my tee over my head. I threw it into the laundry basket before I shed my socks, jeans, and boxer briefs too.
He side-eyed me as he wrapped a towel around his hips but was way quicker to avert his gaze when I came closer. Me, on the other hand—I was done looking away.
I closed the glass door and turned on the water again.
The hot water loosened some tension in my shoulders, and I hung my head and just relaxed.
Ben started brushing his teeth and retrieved the first aid kit, presumably to redress his wound.
My brain kept shouting at me—the man was more focused on the future and his situation than anything else, but I was past the point of no return. I couldn’t shut off the selfish, greedy, horny little fucker in me who only wanted to know if he was watching me in the mirror.
I took a step back from the rush of hot water and began lathering up. But even when I let the selfish part of me take the wheel, I wondered if there was anything else I could do for him. I’d been clear that he was welcome to stay; we always needed help for the soup kitchen, and that wasn’t reserved just for serving and cleaning up. I always had flyers that came in handy, usually polite pleas that I took to grocery stores and whatnot. Please don’t throw away food. Donate it to us. Shit like that. And maybe Ben could help me hand some out. I had to do a grocery run tomorrow anyway.