She stared at him, mouth open.“I got…thirsty.”
Her gaze traveled down his chest, a slow caress.A single drop of water ran over his pecs toward the towel, and she seemed mighty interested in its journey.
He must not have toweled off properly.
Of course, his wetness didn’t seem to be bothering her.
He went hard again.There was no way she wouldn’t know, not with the way she gawked at his towel.Fuck.
Why couldn’t his goddamn cock give him a break?
She dragged her eyes back up his body and set her glass down on the counter.“Nick…”
She wanted him.God knew he wanted her.
All he had to do was drop the towel.It was all that stood in their way, aside from a few other pesky garments on her person.
Don’t.She’s vulnerable.
Gripping the towel edge so hard his knuckles must be white, he stepped back.“Anyway, the ice maker needs fixing.There’s some chilled water in the fridge, if you’d like.I’ll just get dressed.”
“Of course.”She turned away from him, shaking her head.
He escaped into his bedroom.What had he been thinking, going out there wearing only a scrap of terrycloth and a stiffie?
Cursing at himself, Nick threw his towel into the shower stall.He put on some clothes and stalked out front, determined to be the kind of friend Claire needed.Frankly, it was all he should be giving her right now anyway.
Maybe in a day or two, when they were both in a better headspace, they could go back to fucking like animals.
“So,” he said, grabbing his car keys, “how about that lunch?I know a nice Thai place.”
She stood at the door, and didn’t look him in the eye.“Thai’s good.”
Nick held open the door for her and forced a smile.
He would do the right thing.He would not offer Claire his body as her personal plaything.
Instead, he would give her what she really needed, which was space.
Even if it killed him.
What was a little death between friends anyway?
Chapter Sixteen
Claire was relieved when the food arrived, because this was turning into the most awkward lunch date of all time.
Okay, maybe not a date.
Was it a date?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
Despite the looks of longing they kept shooting each other over the tops of their menus, Nick was maintaining a healthy distance.He hadn’t grabbed her hand once.He hadn’t touched her lower back when they’d walked into the restaurant.
To think she’d been praying for him to drop his towel just a few moments earlier.
Claire knew that, no matter how long she lived, she would never forget the sight of a wet Nick, clutching his towel as if his life depended on it.
