Page 37 of Legally Ours

I crossed my arms over my chest, but that didn't stop him from looking at me up and down. He pressed his full lips together, then grabbed a blanket off the bed and tossed it to me.

"Put that on," he said gruffly.

"Why?"

"Because that dress thing was already almost see-through, and now it's completely transparent."

I looked down and gasped when I saw the outlines of my nipples and the shadow of hair between my legs visible through the wet cotton. I wrapped the blanket around me and quickly sat down on the bed, earning a quick chuckle from Brandon, who had pulled on his underwear and tossed his towel onto an armchair.

With his back to me while he pawed through his dresser, I had an opportunity to ogle him openly. The boxer briefs left little to the imagination, hugging the taut curves of his ass and leaving the rest of his skin, still tanned from our two-week vacation on the French Riviera, bare. I could appreciate how the lines of his trim waist spread to the broad expanse of his shoulders, how his long legs seemed to go on forever. As he rifled through his drawer for something, the ripple of muscle over his shoulders practically made me drool.

Seriously, no one should be allowed to look that good, especially not when they are hung over.

"It wouldn't have bothered you before," I said without thinking, suddenly wanting nothing more than to strip off my clothes and lay myself down on the bed for the taking. Little more than a week ago, that's all it would have taken to get him to stop whatever he was doing.

He turned back around, several T-shirts in hand, and caught me staring, open-mouthed, at his washboard abs. His mouth quirked a little, but then turned stern.

"Careful."

I blinked and shook my head. Then I frowned. "I'm sorry. How terrible of me to forget that I'm a pariah."

The quirk turned into a scowl. "Skylar, don't. I'm really not in the mood."

I stared down at the carpet. "Fine. Then the least you could do is cover yourself up too."

That earned me another partial smirk, but Brandon made no move to put anything else on. Bastard. It was then that I noticed he was pulling more clothes out of his drawers and putting them inside a small suitcase that lay open on the ottoman next to the armchair.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

Brandon bent over the suitcase to pack in some underwear, giving me another excellent view of his underwear and the ass underneath it. When he turned around and caught me gawking at him again, he rolled his eyes, but grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of the dresser and tugged them on. It didn't matter. The man would have to cover himself in a trash bag to dim that light, and he was still shirtless. Did he really think I was going to be able to focus on anything besides those washboard abs?

"I have to go to LA for a few days on business," he was telling me.

That startled me out of my staring. This was the first I'd heard about his trip. It certainly wasn't out of the ordinary for Brandon to travel on business––he did it enough that his company had its own plane. But for some reason, this trip stung a little.

"Oh." I gulped. "Okay then." I stared down at the carpet, focusing on the flecks of white in the dark gray.

"Is there something you needed when you came in here?"

When I looked back up, his eyes were cold, although they seemed to soften again when he saw my uncertainty.

"I...I just wanted to know you were okay," I said. "After last night, I mean."

The new bruises on his face had turned darker, and I could see a scab that had formed over one of his knuckles. With his shirt off, I could also see what looked like fingernail gouges at his collarbone. He was a bit scratched up, but didn't––quite––look like he had gotten the shit beat out of him. I hated to think what the other guy looked like.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Brandon said, interrupting my examination. "It won't happen again."

"That's not what I'm asking," I pressed. "I'm asking if you're okay."

"So now you're worried if I'm okay?"

His eyes iced over, and when he turned them on me, I stiffened.

"I-I-" I could only stutter.

"I'm fine, Skylar. You don't need to worry about me, all right?"

I bit my lip, willing away the tears that threatened to fall.