Page 22 of Bad at Love

“That isn’t what I said. I asked if you thought your reaction was dramatic.”

“Same thing.”

“No, not really.”

He fumes, face turning red. “You need to leave,” he grits out.

I hold his gaze, waiting just long enough to build anticipation. “No, I don’t.”

I close the door and drop my towel before pulling open my drawer for some briefs.

My bedroom door is thrown open.

“You have to—”

I turn to face Gabe, giving him a full frontal. His jaw drops and he sucks in a sharp breath. Rolling my lips between my teeth so I can hide my smirk, I look him dead in the eyes.

“I have to, what?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

My dick is hard. Has been since the shower, and he sees all of it now. Every thick inch. And I know he does because he’s staring right at it, his jaw twitching like he wants to say something but can’t. Or maybe he’s thinking about putting it in his mouth? How hot would that be?

Fuck, imagine if he dropped to his knees right now and sucked me off? Christ, that’d be a dream.

“Gabe? Hello?” I snap my fingers, getting his attention. His gaze darts up to me for just a second before he turns and barrels toward his bedroom.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I finish getting dressed, then I go clean up my mess—like I was going to do in the first place. Laundry gets done first, and that’s after I go outside to shake out all the loose grass so it doesn’t get caught in the washer. See, I’m being thoughtful. I’m careful where I step, not wanting to track the grass further around the house. Once the laundry is going, I dig around the closet for the broom to sweep up everything in the house, and even the porch, so more doesn’t get brought inside. Then I go as far as mopping the floors because I have a feeling sweeping won’t be good enough for him. I almost forget to clean the shower, but remember that last minute. By the time I’m done with all that, the washer is done since I put it on an express cycle. I toss the stuff into the dryer before going upstairs to Gabe’s room, where he’s still hiding out. I knock on the door and wait for him to open it. He doesn’t. I knock again.

“Gabe, can we talk?”

“It’s Gabriel!” he calls from inside his room.

“Gabriel,” I grit out. “Can we talk?”

“Do you have clothes on?” he shouts back.

I smirk, wanting to tell him no just to see how he would react. Or better yet, get naked and then tell him yes. He is fun to mess with. I should probably remember I don’t have a lock on my door and if I mess with him enough, he may try to kill me in my sleep.

“Yes, I have clothes on.”

I swear I feel him standing on the other side of the door for a few moments before he pulls it open.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks simply, as if he isn’t all freaked out about what happened.

“I cleaned all the grass up.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Swear I did. Come check if you want.”

I move aside, gesturing toward the stairs. With his eyes still on me, he walks out of his room slowly. He inspects everything; checking the small area out here before going into the bathroom, closing the door halfway once he’s inside to look behind it. He pulls the shower curtain aside to glimpse inside, then comes back out and goes downstairs. Gabe looks everywhere, and when he’s satisfied, he comes back upstairs and looks me in the eyes.

“Thank you,” he says.

Damn, and I thought he would have something more to say.

“See, I’m not so bad.”

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