“I couldn’t bother you with—actually, I could use that toothbrush.” That way I wouldn’t have to wash up at home and risk waking her wrath again.
“Take whichever one you want,” he said, yanking open a drawer. There were dozens of new toothbrushes and toothpaste tubes in there.
I frowned and ran my fingers over the cardboard boxes. “Why do you have so many of these? Did your mom date a dentist?”
He shrugged. “You never know when someone will need necessities.”
“Especially if you have a lot of guests.” I plucked a pink toothbrush from the stash, suppressing the idea of him showing this drawer to another date.
“I’m practically a guest here myself.” He smiled without humor. “We also have deodorant and feminine hygiene products if you ever need ‘em.”
“Thank you. That’s very generous.” I clutched the toothbrush, halfheartedly holding the damp towel to my chest.
Why didn't he feel at home here? He had a room, if he wanted it. Maybe they rented out the house when his mom was away. That would explain all the bonus essentials.
The towel slipped down his hip. Goosebumps pricked across my hot skin, and I glanced away for propriety.
“What’s up?” He propped his forearm on the door and leaned over. It was a good pose. He probably practiced in the mirror.
I readjusted my towel. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t you be getting dressed too?”
He thumbed the edge of the knot. “I wanted to watch you brush your teeth.”
“Why?”
“So I could see if you spit or swallow.” He winked.
“You are such a creep.” I scoffed, pushing him outside the bathroom. “Let me finish in peace.”
“I’d love to see you finish, Tori. Rest assured, next time you come, you’re going to be looking at me.” He slowly slid the knot on his towel down until it revealed the base of his dick.
My lips parted, and my gaze lingered where it shouldn't.
“Oh, do you want a sneak peek?” he asked.
I stopped gawking and shoved the door closed before I did something I’d regret, like snatch that towel from his waist or flick him with it. Stupid, cocky boy.
Very cocky.
I bit my lip, flushing at the reminder of how I’d stroked his massive ego.
What was I supposed to do with him? Not just in general—but foreplay and sex. Was he riling me all up to build tension for next time or was he hinting I should be handling him more this evening?
I peeked out the bathroom, toothbrush perched in one side of my foamed-up mouth. “Angel?”
He turned, half-dressed. “Yes?”
“Did you wantme to finish you off tonight?” It could be an exciting end to our visit, presuming I figured out how to do it.
“Nah, I can handle myself. I was just teasing ya.” He smiled warmly. “Go ahead and spit, pidge.”
“Ugh.” Everything justhadto relate to sex. I closed the door, then hawked the toothpaste from my mouth into the sink.
His laughter flitted through the door.
Did he like me flushed and frustrated? Or was it more about eliciting a reaction? Teasing me. Flirting, like he’d said at the bar.
I placed the pink toothbrush into his medicine cabinet for next time, my cheeks hot at the idea of what we might do and when we might do it. Tomorrow, we could have sex.
