Desperate to wash off all this sweat—and other bodily fluids that shall not be named—I head straight to the bathroom for a shower. I kick off my undies, wrinkling my nose as I do. These pink and white tiger-patterned things are absolutely ruined because of that sexy, arrogant bastard who made me come three times in the same night. Damn him and his dimpled smile and his chiseled jaw and those piercing brown eyes that twisted my tummy into a knot. Damn. Him. I’m actively trying not to think about him.
