Chest.
Skin.
Heat.
Muscles that were clearly forged in the gym or by Thor himself.
“Where’s your shirt?” I croak out, like my vocal cords have gone on strike.
He blinks sleepily. “Shit. Must’ve ditched it in my sleep.”
Casual. Chill. Just another night of spontaneous shirt-shedding. And then—dear baby elves—he lifts the blankets, and I get a glimpse of a whole lot of nothing.
As in…nothing underneath.
Like…pant-less. Commando. Stark freaking North Pole naked.
“Uh—” I squeak, and he shifts slightly. His abs ripple under my palm like a well-oiled snow plow. My brain blue-screens. My hand is still on him. Still touching actual, real-life, naked Penn Radford.
And I don’t hate it.
“It’s not looking good, Jay,” he says, voice low, almost teasing.
Yeah, well, I’d like to be the judge of that.
Wait, what the hell am I saying? I need to get away from this man. Immediately. Before I do something extremely un-platonic and end up on his harem list.
I try to roll away, but gravity, and Penn’s stupidly strong, stupidly shirtless body, has other plans. The bed dips under his weight and sucks me back in. I huff. I grunt. It’s not graceful. Meanwhile, he’s under the blankets, rummaging around like one of his aunt’s ferrets trying to find a snack.
“Found them,” he says, voice muffled.
A moment later, his head pops out from the blankets. He twists and contorts himself into some kind of yoga-laced gymnastics move. A final kick sends the covers flying, and he sits up triumphantly.
“Decent.”
Well, decent-adjacent.
“Good,” I mutter, grabbing my robe and marching toward the hot tub. But then his voice floats after me, laced with suspicion and entirely too much amusement.
“Wait…” he calls. “You didn’t take them off me in the middle of the night and do unspeakable things to me while I slept, did you?”
I spin around, one eyebrow raised. “Oh please. If I was going to do unspeakable things, you'd know.”
Wait, what?
His slow, wolfish grin spreads, and I realize too late what I’ve just said.
“Noted,” he says, and settles back against the pillows with a satisfied smirk.
This man is going to be the death of me. And I’m not entirely sure I mind.
“But hey listen. I can only speak for myself. What he did is between him and Santa.” I nod toward the corner, where the elf sits staring at Penn. Penn squints in the direction I’m pointing, and immediately startles.
“How the fuck did he get out of the closet?”
I press my lips together to stifle a laugh. “Maybe you didn’t shut the door tight enough after you stuffed him in there the second time.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Did you—” He stops himself, shakes his head like he’s afraid of the answer. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about that thing anymore.”