“You aren’t worthy of summoning my demonic fire.” His gait was stilted when he walked across my tiny bathroom.
His fingers were hot when he grasped the hem of my dress and lifted it off.
“Burn it,” I said, not nearly as embarrassed as I should’ve been being naked in front of him. “Burn it with your hell fire.”
“You’re so weird,” he said, while he unhooked my bra with the precision of a surgeon.
“That feels so good.” I shivered when my breasts grazed the side of the bathtub. “Men will never understand the amazingness of taking your bra off.”
“It’s a shame,” he replied.
Then I was lifted off the tile I’d just got warm. I rested my forehead on him when he bent over and pushed my underwear down. My shiver was for a whole different reason.
Before I could figure out why my emotions were rebelling against me, I was surrounded by hot, soothing water.
“Fuck, this feels even better than taking my bra off.”
I opened my eyes just in time to see Mr. Easton’s back leave my bathroom.
“I never took you for a prude,” I called out, taunting him, not wanting to be alone. My taunt landed on deaf ears because he didn’t even pause.
Relaxing in the tub, I closed my eyes, letting the water do its job.
“Here.”
I jumped, sloshing water over the side of the tub.
“Shit, sorry, did I get your shoes wet?”
“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have scared you. I didn’t want you falling asleep in the tub.”
“Can’t ruin your chances of getting your letter opener, can we?”
“Exactly. Maybe you aren’t brainless after all.”
We grinned at each other before Mr. Easton thrust out a bottle of water with pain pills. “Drink and take these.”
Mr. Easton shocked me again by folding up a towel and sitting down on the floor, leaning against my vanity.
“Thank you,” I muttered after downing the whole bottle of water.
“You’re still wearing your ring,” he said, not acknowledging my appreciation.
I glared down at the offending jewelry, forgetting it was even there. “I should have shoved it down his throat.”
“That would have been exciting.”
I sniffled at his words.
“Fuck, what did I say now?”
“He said I wasn’t exciting enough and I was too settled for him,” I explained, reliving Bradford’s departure.
“Not exciting. He’s a moron. Since meeting you, you’ve slugged me in the back of the head, elbowed my kidney, made me buy my first energy drink, feared for the interior of my car numerous times, one for drool, one for vomit, you’ve vomited in front of me, and got naked. What more would he want?”
I shook my head, gathering bubbles in my hand. “I promise, I’m not that exciting. I tried to have a threesome tonight,” I admitted. For some reason, I felt I could tell him. Mostly becauseI knew he was judging me already, so what was one more reason for him to despise me?
He cleared his throat, a nervous tick I’d noticed. “How does one try to have a threesome?”