Page 51 of Arranged Control
I gape at him through the window.
It’s obscene. There’s practically a thin layer of spandex between me and his monstrous package. I can see the outline of his cock as it’s lying against his thigh like a resting python. I gaze up at his stomach, at his hips, at his sculpted chest. He’s glistening slightly with sweat. I look at him like a hungry man staring at steak, at least until I realize he’s staring right back at me with a confident, lazy smile on his face.
I’d scream, but that would only make it worse.
He gestures for me to come out there. I want to turn and run instead. Seamus just caught me ogling him like a horny teenager.
But my god. Look at the man. He’s absurd. Nobody should be that fucking hot.
“When did you get home?” he asks with a sigh, stretching his muscular legs and making my heart skip out of rhythm.
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“And you spent them staring at me? How sweet. Glad the romance isn’t dead yet.”
“Romance was never alive to begin with. What are you doing out here?”
“Enjoying your balcony.”
“In that?!” I gesture at the absurd swimwear.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You’re barely covered.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure my neighbors might.”
“Doubt that.” His smile is lazy and confident. “Pretty sure the old lady next door would gladly keel over of a heart attack just to watch me pick up her keys from the ground in this thing.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I speak the truth, that’s all.”
“Seriously, don’t you have work? Shouldn’t you be doing something other than whatever this is?”
“I’m lounging. And I’m very good at it.” He sighs again, stretching his arms above his head. “Would you like to join me?”
“No, thanks. I’m tired.”
“That’s exactly what lounging was invented for. Go on, strip out of those stuffy clothes and sit with me.”
“This outfit isn’t stuffy. It’s chic and simple.”
“Right, your old lady blouse and boring work slacks really screamfunandhip.”
“I’m not going for either of those, and since when did you get into fashion?”
“Since never. Take off your clothes and join me. Quit being so rigid.”
My jaw tightens. He’s still got that cocky, lazy smile. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
And God help me, it’s working.
“I amnotrigid.” I unbutton my blouse. I’m rage-stripping. It’s a bad idea. Wasn’t there something I wanted to talk to him about? Completely forgot already.
“Uptight is a better word.”
