I swallow. “Yeah. In the shower.” Fuck, my voice sounds strained.
“Great. I’m gonna take the other one,” he replies. Is it just my imagination or does Theo sound a bit off too?
I work the shampoo into my hair as I listen to Theo opening then closing the door to the shower beside me, then turn on the water. I hear the noise of his belt unbuckling, and I grit my teeth.
Do not think about Theo naked,I order myself, but that only brings forth flashbacks of when I’d run into him in the hallway a few weeks ago with nothing but a towel on.
And then waking up with his body pressed against mine …
I stick my face under the water, as if that will wash away my thoughts as well.
Theo Strickland may be my husband, but I have no right to be thinking about him that way.
Then I hear something that absolutely destroys that resolution.
Theo’s low groan on the other side of the wall.
Not aweirdgroan. More like a deep, relieved sigh as the water hits sore, grimy muscles.
Still—my stomach flips, and I have to lean against the tile for balance.
Get it together, Cora.
I try to focus on washing my hair. I try not to hear anything.
But I can’t stop myself from noticing—water hitting tile, the rustle of fabric, the slide of the shampoo bottles on the shelf. So close. Too close.
My heart thumps painfully.
“You doing okay over there?” Theo calls out, voice echoing lightly through the room.
“I’m great!” I answer way too fast, way too high-pitched. “Perfect. Amazing. Best shower of my life.”
He chuckles. A low, warm rumble.
“You say that every time you’re overtired,” he teases.
I groan into my palms. “Please stop knowing me so well.”
“Not something I can help.”
And God help me, my stomach flipsagain.
I finish rinsing, then turn off the water and towel off. I decide I can’t go out there completely unclothed, so I put my underwear back on. The rest I simply fold into a pile. Then I wrap my towel around me and head out.
Theo is still in his shower stall, and I can hear him humming quietly to himself. Hugging the towel to my body for dear life, I stiffly take a seat on a bench in the center of the room. I entertain myself by fidgeting with a loose thread on the towel until suddenly Theo’s shower door opens, and I glance up.
He’s standing there in jeans, no shirt. His abs glisten from the shower, his hair still wet as he absentmindedly towels it dry, his biceps flexing as he holds the towel over his head.
I don’t know when exactly my mouth opens, but I sure as hell shut it when I notice.
Then his gaze lands on me. And he …stares. His jaw flexes, and he swallows. I feel my cheeks redden, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
“Just uh … waiting for some clothes over here,” I joke.
This seems to pull Theo from his thoughts, as he coughs, glancing away. “Yeah, yeah.” He moves to the counter where he grabs a bundled-up shirt I’m only now noticing. “I only had the one extra change of clothes, so I figured we could split it,” he says with a smirk.
I force out a laugh. Itisfunny. But it’s also charged and uncomfortable. He crosses the room, holding out the shirt. I take it from him. It’s a button-up, large, long enough to definitely reach my mid-thighs.
