I’m braiding my hair when he walks out of the bathroom. Walks out of the bathroom, shirtless. A strand of hair slips from between my fingers. I scramble to my feet, looking anywhere but at the tanned chest and damp pants hanging low on his hips. Beads of water are dripping from his hair to roll down his shoulders, trailing toward the body beneath. Not that I noticed. “Do you ever have a shirt on?” I say casually, eyes on the braid I’m fumbling with. “I washed it, so it needs to dry.” Gray eyes flick up to mine. “If I’m distracting you, by all means, let me know.”
lol
