If I didn’t feel like I’d recently swallowed a mouthful of melatonin, I’d be laughing out loud at her use of the wordbits. “This feels like a set up. Like you’re planning to rip away my towel after I step out of the shower.”
Paisley pushes herself off the bed, the shadow of a sly smile playing on her face. “If I do, just know it’s for research purposes. I’m still trying to figure out if it lights up.”
A laugh takes me by surprise, causing me to cough. Paisley sails into the bathroom, leaving the door open. There isn’t a single part of me that does not want to lean back, just a little,just enough, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Paisley in a state of undress. I’m not picky. Any state of undress will do.
Those sexy legs of hers not covered up by shorts? I’ll take it.
A shirt missing from her upper half? Doesn’t matter that I’ll probably see her in a bikini before the day is overtomorrow. I could die a happy man, envisioning her breasts gathered in the lace of her bra.
I can’t let my mind go any further, can’t let myself even begin to think of what she would be like under her bra and panties. The shorts I changed into before our walk on the beach don’t hide a damn thing, and if she comes out here before the blood flow redistributes to the other parts of my body, there will be no hiding what the idea of her naked in the bathroom does to me.
With the laser focus of a man trying to get rid of an erection, I throw all my attention into figuring out this air mattress.
And, what do you know? Without the distraction of Paisley perched on the bed watching me, I get it working and inflated in no time.
Paisley appears in the doorway, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her body, her hair wound into something small and lavender and turban-like on her head. Her skin is flushed from the heat of the water.
“The shower is free,” she announces, scampering into the room.
My eyes are on her body as she crosses to the dresser.
“New rule,” she says, rummaging through the top drawer. “Take your fresh clothes into the bathroom with you when you shower.”
“In that case,” I respond, stepping up to my side of the dresser and opening my top drawer. “I guess I should grab my things.”
“Mm hmm,” Paisley hums, rummaging through the contents of her drawer. Thongs in every color stare teasingly back at me.
“You going to choose something, or stir it around like a soup?” I don’t intend to sound so gruff, but that erection I worked to get rid of is back in full force.
My tone rolls off Paisley’s smooth, tan skin. She grins. She’s enjoying this.
“Oh, Klein. So grumpy sometimes.” Using two fingers, she plucks a delightfully poor excuse for an undergarment out of the assortment and holds it aloft. “These will do,” she says.
Sliding fisted hands into my shorts pockets, I do what I can to press out on the fabric and give the front some breathing room.
I give Paisley a dead-eye expression, as if the color of the sheer thong she’s holding out is not an exact match to her eye color.
She steps back. “Shower time,” she says playfully. “Might want to make it a cold one,” she adds, looking pointedly at my crotch.
Grabbing something to sleep in, I roll my eyes at her as I hustle past. It’s either that, or I’ll end up turning our first good kiss into our first fantastic fuck.
Unlike Paisley, I close and lock the door to the bathroom.
Because I didn’t sneak a peek, I can’t say for sure what Paisley did in the shower, but I know for damn sure what I’m adding to tonight’s agenda for my shower.
Between Paisley’s moist post-shower skin wrapped in that towel, and her little show with her thong, I find relief in almost no time.
It’s acceptable, but not nearly good enough.
I’m out and dressed when there’s a soft knock on thedoor. I open it, and in steps Paisley wearing an oversized sleep shirt that falls to mid-thigh.
“I need my moisturizer,” she says, pointing at an array of tubes and bottles on the counter. “And to brush my teeth.”
We stand beside each other in front of our respective sinks. She shares her tube of toothpaste, and we trade bubble paste grins and fleeting glances in the mirror with toothbrushes stuck out of the sides of our mouths.
Paisley is picking through her toiletries bag when something clatters to the tiled bathroom floor.
Bending, I pick it up. It has a handle like a wand, and a rounded head covered in tiny nodules.
