I couldn’t see the blond’s face yet, but goodness, he was tall, around six and a half feet, and the black thermal he wore stretched across broad shoulders.
“Behind a curtain.” I ignored that. “Just because I happened to be behind a curtain—” “Hiding behind a curtain,” he amended. “Just because I was partially obscured by a curtain doesn’t mean I was snooping around.”
Zayne was standing in my doorway. He’d changed into what I swore was a pair of Thierry’s nylon workout pants and white shirt. His hair was damp and shoved back from his face.
She knows how to feed the audience. Put him in sweatpants, a white tee, and wet hair
“Usually a guy tells me I’m pretty before he demands that I take my shirt off.” He shot me a bland look. “Is that all it takes for you to take your shirt off? You’re very pretty, Trinity.”