The cool air in his place wrapped around me, but it didn’t ease the heat in my chest. It smelled so fuckin good in here. Like a subtle cologne had been sprayed right at the door, because that's where it first hit you.
“What the hell is going on with my friend?” I demanded the moment the door shut behind us.
“Your friend?” he repeated, chewing his gum slowly as if he had all the time in the world. “I let Shorty out at a gas station because I had some shit to do. She went home.”
“You let her out at a gas station to get a ride home after you took her with you?”
“Yeah,” he replied casually. “I had shit to do.”
He walked past me toward his bathroom like the conversation wasn’t urgent, as if I hadn’t rushed over here,worried sick. I followed him, my heels clicking against the floor as frustration simmered in my veins.
“Proctor, she came back crying and throwing up. So I’m trying to figure out what happened. Do you think the Uber driver did something to her?”
He shrugged without looking concerned.
“I don’t know, but if he did, she should call the police.”
The shower turned on, and steam began to rise almost immediately. He grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste from a cup near his sink and started to brush his teeth.
“Proctor, I came here for answers about my friend, and if you don’t have any, then I can leave.”
“Leave already?” he asked, eyes meeting mine through the mirror.
“We just got here. We still have to talk about other things.”
“Other things like what?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
He lifted one long finger, silently telling me to wait while he finished brushing, and the gesture alone irritated me more than it should have. After rinsing his mouth, he spit into the sink and wiped his lips before turning toward me.
“How is our baby girl? " Did she get the medicine she needed?” he asked, his tone softer now.
“She’s fine,” my attention shifted the moment he grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head with one arm. It wasn’t dramatic or exaggerated, but natural and fluid, and that somehow made it even more attractive. His chest was broad and defined, tattoos stretching across his smooth brown skin that glistened slightly from the steam already filling thebathroom. My eyes drifted down before I could stop, tracing the lines of his torso, then Proctor stepped out of his pants like I wasn’t even standing there.
Heat crept up my neck as I tried to remind myself why I came here in the first place. It damn sure wasn’t to lust over the man I promised myself I would never touch again.
Proctor noticed my stare and let out a low laugh.
“My eyes up here, baby girl.”
I forced myself to look at his face, but my body betrayed me with the way my pulse started pounding, my breath turning shallow against my will.
“How do you expect me to talk to you when you’re naked?” I asked, trying to steady my voice, but my blood pressure was through the roof.
“It shouldn’t distract you, because you don’t want me, remember?”
“Of course I remember. How can I forget?”
He shrugged his shoulders and then swung the glass door open. A thick cloud of steam flowed out into the shower like there was a fire inside, and once he stepped inside, the water landed against his shoulders, sliding over skin that was so chocolate it looked like it was melting. Proctor was at least 6’4, so he had to dip his head slightly to get under the shower head, and when he did, that small movement made the muscles in his back flex and shift so damn sexy.
The bathroom light caught the outline of him when the steam started to fog the glass, but I could still see the water trailing down his chest in slow paths, cutting over the ridges of his abs, down his dick that hung heavy beneath him.
I told myself I wasn’t going to stare, but my eyes refused to cooperate. Right now, I was focused like he was a professor giving a lecture on anatomy, and this next test would determine if I passed the class.
The scent from his soap reached me, and that clean, masculine, and expensive aroma was just as alluring as he was. There was a sharp bite of eucalyptus from the body wash mixed with something darker and woodsy, just like that cologne he swore wasn’t cologne. It blended with the room's heat until the air itself was intoxicating. It wrapped around my lungs the same way the steam wrapped around him.
He ran his hands over his chest, slow and deliberate, like he was fully aware of the audience he had. Soap slid across his skin in white streaks before the water rinsed it away. His head tipped back slightly, throat exposed, water streaming down the strong line of his neck. Even blurred by glass and steam, his silhouette was dangerous.
My fingers curled against my thigh, nails pressing into my skin, but the pain still couldn’t snap me out of it. If anything, it made it worse. It reminded me of the pain I felt when he was behind me in his bed, stroking me deeply while holding his hands around my waist, thumbs pressing into the small of my back to keep me from running.
