Page 25 of His Pretty Little Lies
“I think the dryer will suffice.” I watch her head into the bathroom. I expect her to open the door and be wearing my clothes, but she’s not.
My mouth goes dry when she reveals herself in nothing but a towel wrapped around her. I swear I’ve fantasized about this moment a million times in my head.
“I want to shower before I get dressed if that’s okay.” I nod, swallowing hard as I take the pile of clothes from her.
“I’ll be right back. Stay put.” My words come out hoarse, and I have to clear my throat.
“I’m not going to go roaming the hallways without you.” I raise my brows at her. “Not while everyone is awake at least.” I let out a chuckle.
“That’s my girl.”
“Jax.” Kinsley’s tongue comes out, wetting her bottom lip. “That’s fast for you to be calling me your girl.”
“Not really. I’ve been doing it in my head for three years.” A smile pulls at her lips; she’s fighting it but not winning. “Now shut the bathroom door before I kiss you again and that towel doesn’t make it.” Kinsley’s cheeks pinken. She steps back,closing the door, but I catch it right before it completely shuts. “Don’t lock it.”
“It wouldn't matter if I did.” I can’t argue with that. “But I won’t, okay.”
“Bathrooms are dangerous.” Anything is possible. “Over eighty percent of accidents at home happen in the bathroom.”
“Been using them for eighteen years with no issues,” she says with a laugh.
“Then you are due to have one. Maybe you should just leave the door open.” That might kill me, but I’ll do what I must. Even if that is watching her naked in the shower with bubbles all over her. Fucking bubbles. They get to coat every inch of her. In time, I remind myself. I’ll get there.
“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.” Kinsley laughs harder. “I don’t know if you’re joking or not.” I don’t say shit because I don’t think it will help. “Go wash my clothes.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand.
I give her one last look before I turn, heading out of my bedroom. I fire off a few texts and then head back down the stairs to the laundry room before making my way to the kitchen. When I enter, my dad is closing the oven. The smell of lasagna fills the room.
“We need to talk.”
Well, shit, that’s never good.
“Kinsley is off the table,” I tell him, making it clear what she means to me. If I’m willing to push back over a girl, it's not a small thing.
“It’s not about the girl. You think I don’t know about her?” Figured he had an idea. There are things I’ve done over the years that he might have caught wind of.
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“You want to tell me why my security went offline at our warehouse over on Vine?” I knew this would be coming. My dad doesn’t miss a damn thing. Especially when it comes to security.
“I was using it and then other shit came up.”
“Shit you’re going to handle?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’m trusting you.”
“I know.” Aka: Don’t fuck whatever this is up or you’ll lose some of that trust.
“Good.” He walks around the kitchen island, pulling me in for a hug. “But you know if you need me.”
“I know.”
“The trays are in that cabinet off the kitchen island,” he points out.
“Thanks.” The man is always a few steps ahead.
I grab a tray and start to load it up. Dad pulls out the lasagna, and I dish out a couple of servings, along with making a sandwich. I go ahead and make a couple of extras so they’re ready in the morning for Kinsley’s lunch.
