It’s going to be an interesting five days.
CHAPTER FIVE
CHARLOTTE
Iwake up with pillow creases biting into my cheek and sweat-dampened pajamas clinging to my legs. I blink away the morning light and look at the window. Ugh, it’s closed. I should have slept with it open.
A glob of something white stains one part of the glass. Is that seagull poop?
The stuffy heat of the room gets to me again. If I’d left the window open, would the seagulls have come in and pooped on me? I groan at how juvenile my brain is this early in the morning.
I throw an arm over my forehead and moan.“Why is it so hot?”
“There’s no air conditioner.” Owen walks out of the bathroom wiping his neck with one corner of a fluffy white towel. The rest of the towel hangs loose down the front of his naked body. “Sleeping naked helps.”
He smirks at me.
I jump in surprise and tug the blanket up to my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Drying myself, unless you prefer I drip-dry without the aid of a towel?”
My gaze takes in his tight biceps and solid thighs.
“No.” I smack a hand over my eyes and count to twenty. “Are you decent yet?”
His low chuckle makes my nipples tighten. “Depends on your definition ofdecent.”
I scissor my fingers open and peek to see his briefs snapping into place. I can see every inch of him clearly outlined in one long length pointing upward.It’s worse than the towel.
I’ve only ever seen a penis in pictures and the occasional porn video I indulged in when curious. Never this close in real life, even covered in underwear.
“Careful,” he warns as he walks to the edge of the bed, “or I’ll give you an up close look.”
He hooks one finger in the elastic band and slowly starts to tug it down.
I want him to keep going, which is insane. He thinks I’m Eloise.
The material tugs tighter around his shaft. One more tug and he will expose himself.
“Seagulls,” I yell.
His brows rise in confusion.
“Seagulls pooped on the window.”
He looks to the window, and I swear that his cheeks color slightly.
He turns to me, his confusion melting away with a smirk. “Are you sure it was seagulls?”
“What else would it be?”
“No idea.” He winks, then walks out the bedroom door.
Sun soaks into my skin, and Eloise’s bikini rides up my ass as I lie on a lounge chair on the deck with a notepad and pen I snuck from a drawer in the kitchen.
Eloise does not draw, so bringing my sketchbook was too risky, but then again, Owen has been on the phone all morning, so I doubt he would even have noticed charcoal smudges on my hands.
He’s so hot and cold, flirting with me one minute and ignoring me the next.
