Of course he does. Because apparently this day is determined to test every ounce of my self-control. He disappears into the bathroom, and I close my door, leaning against it. This is going to be much harder than I thought.
It's been several days since Marco moved into my apartment, and we've barely spoken beyond basic pleasantries. He's turned my living room into his personal gym, which means I'm treated to the sight of him working out shirtless on a regular basis.
I'm not complaining—the man is definitely nice to look at.
But he's not the only one putting on a show. I've been walking around in short shorts and sports bras, making sure my nipples are visible through thin camisoles, bending over whenever possible. If he wants to torture me with his perfect body, I can return the favor.
Marco acts completely unaffected most of the time, but I catch the subtle signs—the way he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath when I walk by, how he runs his hand through hishair when I'm being particularly provocative. He's affected more than he wants to admit.
If he were paying closer attention, he'd notice the way he affects me too.
I'm cleaning today, wearing an old t-shirt and biker shorts with my hair in a messy bun, when there's a knock at the door. Marco immediately springs into action, grabbing his gun from wherever he keeps it hidden.
"Down, boy," I tease. "It's probably Becca, my neighbor."
He checks the peephole and confirms it's a blonde with short hair before stepping back and concealing his weapon. I roll my eyes—Becca is harmless.
"Hey, girly pop!" Becca says when I open the door, but her attention immediately shifts to Marco. "Holy shit! Who are you, handsome?"
My stomach clenches at the way she's looking at him, like she wants to devour him whole.
Marco glances at my expression and steps away from the door. "I'll be in the shower," he announces before disappearing.
"You've been holding out on me," Becca says, pushing into my apartment and heading straight for my wine collection.
I intercept her before she can open anything. "It's two PM on a Thursday, Becca. We're not day drinking while Marco is in the next room."
She grins wickedly. "So we can't talk about him when he's not in earshot? This calls for a girls' night. I'll be back in a few hours, and we'll go to Mazzy's."
Before I can protest, she's already heading for the door, practically vibrating with excitement.
A few minutes later, Marco emerges from my bedroom wearing only a towel around his waist, and I feel my cheeks heat. His dark hair is wet and hanging in his eyes, and when he catches me staring, he smiles knowingly.
The bulge beneath his towel suggests he's probably very popular with women, and my traitorous mind immediately conjures images of him dropping that towel and pushing me up onto my kitchen counter.
"What did your friend want?" he asks, grabbing a glass of water.
"Girls' night," I manage, not trusting myself to look at him directly. "I'll be heading out in a few hours."
"I'll make sure I'm ready."
I whip around to face him. "What do you mean,you'llbe ready? You're not coming with us."
"It's not up for debate. You can hang out with your friend but I'm going too."
"I'm sorry—did you not hear the words 'girls' night'?" I walk closer and make a show of looking him up and down. "Is there a vagina hiding under that towel that I should know about? Because last I checked, you're very much not a girl."
He drops the glass on the counter with a decisive thunk. Then he steps forward until we're almost toe to toe. His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Does itlooklike there's a vagina under this towel, Elena?"
My face flames. He just called my bluff and we both know it. "That's not the point."
"No? Then what is the point?" He tilts his head slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, the point is you're trying to get rid of me for a few hours. Not happening."
"The point is girls' night meansno men allowed." I refuse to back down even though my heart is hammering. "As in, we're going to talk about tampons and periods and all the things that make guys uncomfortable."
"I have a sister. I'm not uncomfortable."
