Page 50 of Done with You

“If you’re going to pee, when you share a bathroom with a stranger, the smart thing to do is lock the door. I didn’t want to knock because I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” She rested her hands on her hips and Aiden’s gaze fell to the thin strip of skin exposed between her tank top and pajama pants. She hastily tugged down her shirt so it met her waistband.

“Dude,” Jordan said, scratching the back of his neck. “Lock the door, okay?” He turned around and headed back into their bedroom

Aiden grunted, then washed his hands.

A gentle, barely noticeable tap to Oona’s shoulder had her spinning to face her sister. Rayma had one brow up and her lips twisted. “He wasn’t peeing, was he?”

Oona took a deep breath and pushed it out in a quick whoosh, then dropped her voice low. “I try not to overly familiarize myself with the idiosyncrasies of a man’s time in the bathroom. He could have been painting you a picture as a wedding gift with his dick for all I know or care.”

Rayma snorted. “There are a couple dudes who do paint with their cocks. Saw it live when I went to Taboo in Vancouver last year. It was wild. He probably has callouses on his dick if he was doing that.”

Oona could without a doubt verify that Aiden did not have callouses on his dick, but she wasn’t about to divulge that to her sister. She blinked and shook her head. “I just need to pee, then I want to go back to bed.”

Aiden walked into the living room, but she could still feel the heat of his stare burning into her back like the summer sun at high noon from where she stood in the hallway with her sister.

Rayma gave her a small, cheeky smile, squeezed her arm, then retreated to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She knew better than to poke the bear, but call it delirium, disbelief, or inconvenient desire, because despite all the reasons she shouldn’t, she walked into the living room, her hands still on her hips and cast a menacing, confused glare at the man getting himself comfortable on the pull-out. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“You … you’re … look, I know masturbation is totally healthy and normal, but … why couldn’t you do it in the shower, or lock the freaking door at least?”

Unless …

No, that was impossible. He didn’t leave the door unlocked with the hopes of her walking in on him. He wasn’t that deranged, was he?

Yes, what she’d walked in on was hot and had immediately caused a flush of heat to crawl up her neck and pool between her legs, but still.

The living room was dark, so it was tough to see his eyes. She liked their greenness and how, when he was angry or aroused, they turned a darker shade. Like the color of cedar boughs. Otherwise, they were more of a grass-green with veins of brown meandering outward from the pupil. But she couldn’t see any of that right now. Just the scowl on his face and the narrowing of his thick brows. “It was an accident.”

He was shirtless, and even though she’d seen him a lot more naked than that, her heart rate spiked and a lump lodged in her throat when she let her gaze roam across the valleys and contours of his torso, and arms as he sat there on the pullout bed, sheets tangled around his legs, staring at her.

“Can I help you with something else?” His tone was dry and bored-sounding. “Or were you going to help me, seeing as your interruption kept me from finishing.” He smirked.

Her eyes went wide and she growled, stomped her foot, bunched her fists, and spun on her heel, stalking off to the bathroom. “You are a pig.”

“Remember to knock next time, fuckyouverymuch,” he called out after her just as she closed the bathroom door.

She wanted to scream. The man was …

The man was impossible.

Impossibly handsome.

Impossibly sexy.

Impossibly good in bed.

Impossibly infuriating.

Impossibly arrogant.

Impossibly hurtful.

Impossibly hard to resist and get out of her head.

She splashed cold water on her face after she finally relieved herself, but that did very little to cool her off.

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