Page 54 of Sin Bin Daddies
“Take your time,” he says. “I’ll check the pipes.”
His green eyes hold mine, something unreadable in them. Just me and him. Alone.
I nod slowly. “Thanks, Ford.”
He gives me a lazy half-smile. “No problem, angel.”
I quickly undress, step under the hot spray, and sigh as the water rushes over me. Finally. A proper fucking shower.
I lather up, massaging shampoo into my hair, tilting my head back as the water rushes down my spine.
I should not be thinking about Leo—not about the way he groaned against my skin, whispered filthy things in Spanish, or wrecked me so thoroughly I still feel it. Nope.
I drag my hands down my face, forcing the memories away. I need to get my shit together.
Rinsing quickly, I reach for a towel—only to find nothing. Shit. The only one on the rack is barely bigger than a hand towel. Double shit.
The door swings open.
I freeze as Ford steps inside, broad shoulders filling the doorway, eyes dark and unreadable. “Fixed your pipes,” he says, voice rough.
I clutch the tiny towel to my chest. “Yeah?”
He nods. “Pressure issue. Should be fine now.” His gaze lingers, tracking my face, my mouth.
I swallow. “I, uh… forgot to grab a towel.”
Ford disappears for a second, returning with a fresh, fluffy one—but he doesn’t hand it over. He just watches me, like he’s waiting.
I shift. “Could you, uh… turn?”
His jaw tightens, but he does. I snatch the towel, quickly wrapping it around me.
When he turns back, his gaze goes straight to my throat. To the marks Leo left. His knuckle grazes my collarbone.
“Didn’t know you played so rough,” he murmurs.
A breath hitches in my throat. Heat pools low, my skin burning under his touch.
He steps closer, gaze dropping to my lips, and the air shifts. His fingers flex, his chest rises and falls in slow, controlled breaths.
“Ford,” I whisper.
His fingers graze my throat. I swear to God, he’s about to kiss me.And I’m about to fucking let him.
I clear my throat, regain my sanity, and take a step back.
“Thanks for fixing the water,” I say quickly.
He blinks, his expression shuttering. “Yeah,” he mutters.
Silence.
I shift on my feet. “I never took you up on that snorkeling offer.”
His eyes hold mine for a beat too long, then he nods once. “What about tomorrow?”
I nod back, turning on my heel and bolting before I do something fucking stupid. By the time I make it back to my apartment, I’m flushed, breathless, and so goddamn confused.
