“And we should’ve talked about it last night. But we didn’t. No biggie. Go ahead and take your shower. I’ll get dressed in my closet.” He lets go of me and gestures for me to pass him.
He has a thick purple towel wrapped around his waist and it sits low. Very low, showing off his defined abdomen and the V of his hips.
Oh shit. I’m gawking.
My eyes snap away and I scurry back into the bathroom and shut the door.
I hear a sexy chuckle.
“Now we’re even,” he says.
I frown, but then it dawns.
I guess he’s right. He saw me in a towel once.
And his boxer briefs and a pair of track pants are staring at me from the floor by the toilet this morning.
Sheesh. What a disaster.
14
Killian
First, I climb in bed with the girl and put my hands on her; now I’m almost showing her my junk. Fuck sakes.
I head into my closet to get dressed in a suit while I ponder how fucking right she felt in my bed last night, in my arms, her sweet ass cheeks cradling my cock.
I already jerked off in her shower to that memory, and now I’m fuckin’ hard again thinking about how her sexy eyes raked over my body.
This arrangement could be interesting.
Why did I wind up in bed with her last night? I guess I must’ve half-woken on the couch and wandered to my bed. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen asleep on the couch and woke up in my own bed, obviously stumbling off half-asleep. I was a sleepwalker when I was a kid, especially when I was fretting about something. But last night, I must’ve been on autopilot.
First, the girl goes through that trauma last night with that shit stain and has to pack her stuff and come to my place – and I know she has a bunch of questions but is too afraid to ask. I’d put her out of that misery, but frankly, I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Or mostly. I haven’t yet decided how all this is going to play out.
Then, the poor girl wakes up to me pawing at her, half an inch away from getting my hand in her underwear and then this morning – on top of all that – I nearly flash her.
I roll my eyes as I fasten my belt.
***
I’m at the kitchen counter, finishing off my coffee when Violet comes out, biting her lip.
She trips as her eyes land on me and she recovers as I reach for her hand. She doesn’t take it. Instead, she squeaks, “Oops.”
She’s got dry hair, beautifully sleek and straight, though I do like her corkscrew curls, too, and she’s in jeans and a soft-looking deep purple sweater with the beige heeled boots she had on last night.
I’m dressed in a suit, but I’m sporting four days of scruff on my face. It’s a nice ego boost to have a beautiful girl trip on air because she sees you and you know she likes how you look.
I can’t help but take her in from head to toe. My fingers tingle with the urge to feel that sweater.
“Casual Friday at work, thankfully,” she smiles. “Can I, um…” she gestures to my coffee maker.
I pour her a cup of coffee. “Here.” I open the fridge and pass her a quart of flavored creamer, the brand I’d seen her use that morning in her apartment.
She blinks at it with obvious surprise.
I say nothing.
Yes, I had it brought in for her. She looks at me like she’s wondering if me taking her last night was premeditated. I can read it on her face, Violet’s face seems to be an open book to what she’s thinking. But she asks no questions.
“You start work at nine o’clock, right? You want some breakfast?”
“Eight thirty, actually, but I’m not really an early breakfast person,” she replies. “I’m more of a ten o’clock donut or bagel at my desk gal. But please don’t let me stop you.”
I smile. “Naw, I usually grab food after I work out, but I skipped my workout this morning so I’m not there quite yet.”
She sips her coffee and looks away, blushing.
And I find myself staring at her body. She’s got a great body. I know she works out from the reports Wes provided, and the fact that she’s a stir fry or dinner salad girl goes along with that, but she’s also got curves and it makes sense with the bagel/donut comment.
“About last night, Violet…”
She stares blankly. Or she tries to stare blankly, but I can see the flush creeping up her neck and over her face.
“That wasn’t me trying to take advantage of you. I just…” I pause. I’m not a bumbler but I feel loss for words for a minute as I stare at her large, dark, and expressive eyes.
“Wandered to your own bed from your couch while asleep? I understand,” she finishes for me. “It’s okay. It was pretty obvious you weren’t quite conscious. Sorry if it mucked up your sleep last night having to sleep on your couch.” She wrinkles her nose.
“Don’t worry about it.” I look at my wrist. “I should get you there.”
“I can take my car and…”
“I’ll take you,” I tell her.
She sips her coffee, looking rushed and I can tell by her face it’s too hot.
“Bring it with you,” I say.
“Oh…” she shakes her head. “That’s okay, I’d probably spill it in your car.”
“Here.” I open the cupboard and pull out a ceramic travel mug and gesture for her to give me her mug. She does so I pour the contents of the black coffee mug into the white travel cup and hand it back after tightening the lid. I stick the dirty mug into my dishwasher. “Though I don’t give a fuck if you spill it in my car.”
She looks at me with surprise and then shakes her head as if to clear her expression. “Oh, yay. Ceramic. I hate metal or plastic travel mugs. It never tastes right. You even load the dishwasher. Wow.”
I had Patricia buy the ceramic travel mug yesterday.
“Patricia doesn’t come back until Monday. I like how she keeps my place, and she can’t do more than two days a week. If I’m not self-sufficient, I have to live in filth between her days. I don’t like living in filth.” I close the dishwasher.
“That’s refreshing for a guy your age.”
“Raymond a slob?” I ask.
“That’s an understatement,” she replies softly.
“Not a shock. Let’s go.”
She looks fresh and well-rested and I’m glad for it. She looked worn out last night.
***
After a quiet ride to her job, which is less than five minutes’ drive from my place, we pull up in front and I spot him heading in the other direction, walking quickly with a baseball cap on his head. He saw she was with me, pulled the visor down and tried to slink away like the fuckin’ snake he is.
“See that?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she breathes, looking ashen.
“Stay put.” I park and jog to catch up to him. He looks over his shoulder before he freezes, shoulders slumping.
“Yeah, I saw you, motherfucker.”
15
Violet
Watching Killian speak to Ray is an astounding sight because Ray looks so visibly afraid.
Killian? Calm assertiveness. His body language, the way his mouth moves as he says whatever he’s saying to Ray? Cool as a cucumber. Ray stretches his neck to see me in the car and his eyes go huge.