Page 69 of Drop Shot
“Fuck,” he groans, but does as he’s told.
“Good boy,” I tell him.
I mean it as a joke, but the way his eyes darken I don’t think he takes it that way.
“Do you want help out of your clothes?” I ask, my hands fluttering awkwardly at my sides.
He shakes his head. “I think I can handle that even drunk.”
“Okay.” I hesitate. “Do you want to shower or just go to bed?”
He frowns. “Shower.”
“All right, well hop to it, because I’m not going to be able to go to sleep until I know you’re okay and haven’t fallen and died in the shower.”
“Wow.” He arches a brow, lips curling deliciously in amusement. “Morbid, much?”
Hands on my hips, I say, “I watched a story on the news one time and—” I shake my head. “You know what? Never mind. Just get it done.” I hook a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.
He frowns. “But what if I need you to wash my back?”
“Elias,” I groan.
“Kidding.” He gets up slowly from the bed, his hand going to the belt on his jeans. “I can handle it.”
He undoes the belt and drops it to the floor. Shirt next.
He turns to look at me from the doorway, fingers undoing the button and zipper. I stare open-mouthed, not even his knowing smirk phasing me.
Then he closes the door.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
I settle myself back in bed, this time with my kindle in the hopes that reading will distract me. Unfortunately, I left off at a spicy scene, so it’s definitely not helping my current situation.
With a groan, I close the case and set it aside, picking up my phone for more scrolling.
It’s only been about five minutes when I hear a loud, “Fuck,” from the bathroom. I sit up, looking toward the door. He didn’t fall, did he?
“Elias?”
“I’m okay!” he hollers back.
I frown skeptically.
I’m on edge until he finally leaves the bathroom, steam billowing behind him and outlining his ridiculously tall and muscular frame.
I swear the majority of the population is sleeping on how hot tennis players are. He’s lean and toned, but with thick thighs I’d let him?—
“Eyes up here, baby.” He gestures to his face, wearing a proud smirk.
“Ugh,” I groan, turning away from him. “You’re insufferable.”
“Insufferably handsome you mean?” He slides into bed behind me.
I ignore him, unlocking my phone again. He yawns and seesaws his legs back and forth.
“What are you? A cricket?” I tease.
