Page 16 of Dirty Pucker

Ingrid’s smile turns teasing. “But, I mean, is she right?”

“Yeah.”

We both chuckle.

I glance down at my piss-soaked shirt. “I should probably change and shower.” I look up at Ingrid. “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.” I walk over to the sectional, grab the remote, and turn on the TV. I hand the remote to Ingrid. “In case you want to watch anything.”

She tells me thanks and I head upstairs. I strip off my shirt and pants, toss them in the washing machine, then head to the master bath. I flip on the hot water, jump in, grab the bodywash and loofah, and get to work scrubbing myself clean.

A few minutes pass, then I hear a crashing noise from downstairs. I still.

“Ingrid? Was that you?” I holler.

No answer.

“Ingrid, are you okay?”

Still no answer.

My pulse skyrockets. Shit. Did she fall and hurt herself?

I turn off the shower, grab a towel, wrap it around me, and run out of the bathroom, through my bedroom, down the stairs.

“Ingrid, are you alright?” I yell when I round the bottom of the stairs and jog down the hall.

I freeze when I see Ingrid standing on a stepladder, a pile of boxes surrounding her. And then I see broken glass all over the floor, right under where she’s standing.

She glances around the floor. “I’m sorry. I saw your stepladder against the wall and I thought I’d be a nice houseguest and unpack some of your stuff for you, but then a bunch of the boxes fell over and knocked over my water glass…”

When she looks up at me, her eyes go wide.

She rakes her gaze slowly down my body, pausing at my waist, right above my towel.

Her mouth falls open. “Wow…”

“Good wow?” I tease.

She nods, her unblinking gaze still glued to my abs. “Um, yeah…” She swallows. “You must work out.”

I chuckle. “Don’t move.”

I head to the front door and grab my shoes, put them on, then grab the broom and dustpan from the nearby closet and sweep up the glass.

I dump the shards into the trash can and set the broom against the counter. She moves like she’s going to step down onto the floor but I stop her.

“There might still be little pieces of glass. I’ll pick you up.”

She swallows. “Okay.”

“You might get a little wet,” I say.

She tilts her head at me, fighting a smile. “Seriously? Did you even think about that before you said it?”

I wink at her. “Of course I did.”

I scoop Ingrid into my arms. She yelps, then giggles as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Wow. Such a gentleman.”

I still and look her in the eye. “Not always.”Like in bed. Not even fucking close.

---