Logan didn’t hesitate. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone, and I think you feel comfortable being honest with me.” He waited for me to nod. “Right. So, I don’t think that’s possible.”
My heart lurched. If he was trying to flatter me, it was working. I searched for any other rebuttal, but came up empty.Unless I wanted to hammer another wedge between us, there was only one thing left to do.
“Okay,” I squeaked.
Logan’s pupils dilated. He glanced at the bed, then at my half-removed blouse. “Shower?”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
I pressedmyself against the closed bathroom door, my heart racing. It turned out Logan had, in fact, noticed the double shower head when he was changing. I wondered if he’d been thinking about it since lunch, but didn’t have the guts to ask. Had he planned this? Did he think when he’d told me not to worry about the bed situation, that this was a possibility?
He kicked his pants to the side and turned to face me in only his boxer briefs, which meant I had a full view of his front and back, courtesy of the wall-length mirror.
My pulse swooped.
Logan leaned on the counter. “We don’t have to do this. It’s never too late to call it off.”
I wet my lips, my eyes travelling down his torso. “He says, standing in front of me, nearly naked.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Is that a factor in your decision-making?”
“No.” I lied, forcing my gaze back to his.
“Itiseducational. You can do your own research too, if you want.”
I bit my lip. “Just—turn around.”
He grinned. “Starting already?”
“No, I just don’t want you watching?—”
“Hell, no!” Logan laughed. “If we’re doing this, you don’t get to tell me not to watch.”
I thought about pushing the issue, but what was the point? If, in fact, I was going through with this, we were going to be naked in the shower in about five seconds.
Despite my stomach lurching, I let go of the blouse and let it fall to my hips, then quickly unbuttoned my black slacks and slid them off with the shirt in tow. I dropped them onto Logan’s pants and stood there in my underwear, hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin. Of the way the bathroom light hit my curves and lack thereof, the soft not-quite-flatness of my stomach.
“Can I—” Logan’s voice caught. He lifted a hand, motioning to my bra. I nodded and turned, giving him access to the clasp.
Air hissed through my teeth as his fingers brushed my skin.
“Do most bras have two clasps or three?”
I blinked, trying to focus. “Depends. Most of mine have two, but I do have a couple that are three. The cute ones only have two.”
He made a sound, fiddling with the band. The tension released. Just like before, I waited. Logan slipped the straps off my shoulders, and I straightened my arms, letting it fall to the floor.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“What?”
“Me taking it off?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He stepped back, and I counted to three, gathering the courage to turn. When I did, his eyes swept over me. Slow, but not leering, no smirk on his lips.
