Perplexed, he did as she asked. Partially, at least. He’d barely got the window half-open before Honey slithered inside, practically falling into his arms. And then there was no question of turning around, because she was
Stark.
Damn.
Naked.
“Buck!” Honey yelped. She twisted out of the frozen circle of his embrace, trying to cover herself. “I told you to turn around!”
There were a lot of things he could have said to that. “Sorry,” that would have been a good one. “Quick, take this blanket,” could have worked. Or even, “Unfortunately, I have been stricken with sudden total paralysis, and on an unrelated subject did you realize you seem to have completely mislaid your clothes?”
What came out of his mouth was: “Fuck me.”
“Well, at least now I know what it takes to make you swear.” Honey glared at him over the arm she’d clamped across her chest. “Are you going to turn around or not?”
“Woman, I cannot remember where my eyelids are at the moment, let alone my legs,” is what he would have said if he’d had any higher brain functions remaining.
Since he didn’t, he instead said, again, “Fuckme.”
Honey gave him an exasperated look. “Will you stop swearing and say something sensible?”
This, he felt, was unfair. He had already made a very sensible suggestion. Twice.
When he continued to stare at her in mute appreciation, Honey rolled her eyes. She pushed past his arm, covering herself with her hands as best she could. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.Youlaunched yourself naked throughmywindow, in case you’ve forgotten. At least I didn’t just stand there gawping.”
Right. He should probably be doing something. That thing he should be doing was almost certainly not staring at her breasts. He was definitely going to stop doing that, and start doing the other thing, just as soon as he could figure out what that was.
Breasts.
He rotated with the helpless focus of a compass needle as Honey sidled past him, her back to the wall. She disappeared into his bathroom, slamming the door in his face.
A moment later, she demanded, “Whyis yourtowelsosmall?”
Right.
Honey. Naked. Insulting his towels.
This was not how this fantasy usually went.
“It’s a towel,” he said, still trying to figure out if all this was actually happening outside his imagination. “It’s towel sized. I did not realize there was going to be an audit. You’re naked.”
“Yes, thank you, I am quite aware. And this towel is nowhere near big enough to rectify that situation.” The door opened a crack, and Honey’s bare arm thrust out. “Hand me a shirt.”
This, he could do.
She whisked the shirt away from him, closing the door. After a few moments, a whole Honey emerged, breasts now tragically covered.
“We’re too similar in height.” She tugged at the hem of the camp t-shirt, which just barely skimmed her upper thighs. “I’d ask to borrow a pair of your pants, but I’d never get them over my—”
She glanced up at him, and stopped dead.
Excellent. That meant he could stare at her too, and she couldn’t complain about it. Even with the woeful loss of nipples, there was still a lot of Honey to admire. Things were looking up.
“Buck,” Honey said in very calm, level tones. “Why are you shirtless?”
He struggled to recall. “You… told me to give you a shirt?”
“I didn’t mean the one you were wearing!”
