Page 15 of The Rookie

There’s no way.

Absolutelyno way.

The Universe wouldn’t be that mean to me.

I hear Griffin moving around, and clearing his throat, probably flexing at his reflection like an idiot.

The door cracks open just enough for his face to appear, his wet hair plastered to his forehead and an infuriating grin spread across his lips.

“Relax, Princess. You’ll get your turn.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t call me that. And hurry up!”

“So first I’m waking up too early to shower, now I need to hurry up? Which is it? I’m just trying to be a considerate roommate. And it’s not my fault if showers are my therapy.” He winks and shuts the door again, the sound of the shower roaring back to life.

I mutter a string of curses under my breath and stomp back to my bed. By the time the water shuts off, I’ve already thrown on some clothes and am halfway through brushing my hair.

The door swings open, and Griffin strolls out, whistling, shirtless and dripping water everywhere, a towel slung low around his hips.

And, okay, fine. Objectively speaking, he’s handsome. Infuriatingly tall, annoyingly broad shoulders, abs carved like someone actually cared during creation. And that towel—why is it hanging just there, barely staying on, drawing my eyes to the outline of something I definitely should not be noticing?

It’s stupid. No one should look like that in real life.

He’s grinning, of course, like he knows exactly what kind of distraction he is.

“Oh, and you might want to give it a minute,” he adds, leaning casually against the doorframe. “The hot water’s kind of temperamental.”

I spin around, glaring at him. “Can you please not strut around shirtless?”

As I say it, his grin widens, and he shifts slightly as he grabs for something. Meanwhile the towel slips just an inch—then another—before it hits the floor entirely.

My brain short-circuits.

For a solid three seconds, I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything except stare.

Because holy—what in the actual hell?

It’s…a lot. And not just in theoh wow, that’s nicekind of way. No, this is life-altering, world-tilting, need-to-sit-down-before-I-pass-out levels ofa lot.

If his abs were carved by the gods, then that was apparently their passion project. But what’s below that?

Oh.

Oh.

It’s impressive.Intimidating.Thick and hung low like it has no right to be.

Completely and utterly unfair.

The sneaking suspicion I’ve always had that my best friend’s brother is outrageously well-endowed?

Confirmed.

I blink. Open my mouth. Close it. Try again.

Nothing.

Griffin doesn’t even flinch. He just stands there, all lazy confidence and bare, unapologetic arrogance, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement.

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