When I had the tatters down to his waist, I looked up at him.
He was glowering, but he still asked, “Do you… have pants?”
I nodded.
Dark eyelashes swept over those incredible eyes. “Leave ’em. Turn around.”
“You don’t need help taking the rest of your suit off?” I croaked, hoping I didn’t sound hysterical. Not because I wanted to help him take off his… bottoms but because he looked shaky sitting there.
But, obviously, that wasn’t what he assumed, because somehow his expression got that much more irritated, which was a surprise because I hadn’t thought that was fucking possible. “No,” he snapped.
I’d go fuck myself then.
Ireallyhoped it was pain making him this bitchy.
I peeked at his face to see if he’d read my mind, but he wasn’t shooting daggers at me.
Whew.
Getting up, I went to my dresser and pulled out one of the pairs of men’s sweatpants I wore sometimes when it was cold. They might be loose on him because his hips were narrower, but they’d fit. I also grabbed one of my biggest T-shirts, hesitating for a second when I noticed the design, but then I bit my lip and set the clothes beside him on the bed.
“Help me get up.”
Whatever he wanted.
Back under his heavy arm, I helped him and his fucking concrete bones to stand up, and as soon as he was on his feet, he put his hand on the nightstand and shot me a dirty side-look that I definitely didn’t deserve. What was up his ass? Did I do something to him in a dream? “Turn around,” he ordered in his crackly voice. “Close your eyes.”
That’s what I did, even though I wondered if he thought I was going to peek through my fingers.
I stood there, facing the wall, listening to soft groans that said he was definitely hurting. He hit something, then banged into something else. The sudden scent of something burning hit my nose at the same time a bright light flashed on the other side of my lids.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to imagine what the hell he was doing.
He gave me what I was starting to think was his typical answer as the burning smell peaked: The Defender grunted. Then he made the same noise as it sounded like he sat back down from the way the mattress creaked.
“Done,” that exhausted voice huffed.
I pinched my lips together as I finally turned. He was on the edge of the bed. He’d managed to pull the gray sweatpants on, but the shirt I’d left for him had fallen to the floor beside his feet and the blanket.
Oh.
He was shirtless.
TheDefender was basically half-naked.
And if I could’ve counted it discreetly, I was pretty sure there were eight little squares of muscle making up his abs.
But I couldn’t actually confirm it.
I couldn’t look at anything but his face, and I knew it. He would notice. And I had self-control. I really did. There was a box of cookies that I managed to only eat two of at a time.
I wasn’t weak.
I had discipline.
I could do this. I could keep my eyes to myself. Above his nipples. I could ignore his maybe-eight-pack and pretend I didn’t see all that endless, dark-golden skin.
Keep it together. Keep it fucking together, Gracie. You can do it.
