That was where I was still standing when the bathroom door opened and Caymen walked out wearing nothing but a towel.
I couldn’t tell you if the moan I felt bubbling up in my chest stayed internal or slipped out. But… damn.
“Gotta problem,” he said, turning to me.
Hadn’t he left his phone on the counter? What bad news could he have gotten? Did the damn shower break or something?
“What kind of problem?”
“Well, we were prepared for you staying here,” he said, moving closer. And that towel was hanging on for dear life. I was rooting for its downfall.
“Okay,” I said, forcing myself to remember to swallow my saliva.
“Meaning, I don’t have shit with me.”
I couldn’t focus on a single word he was saying. Because a bead of water fell down from his hair. I traced its journey over his shoulder, down his pec, then dipping into one of the grooves of his abs before disappearing below the towel.
“Baby, focus,” Caymen said, laughter in his voice.
“I’m focusing.” On his body.
That got a full-on burst of laughter out of him, which did even more interesting things to those abs of his.
My gaze flicked up, finding his gorgeous face all the more handsome when he was smiling that big.
“Try focusing on my words.”
“Now why would I want to do that?” I asked, smiling back at him.
But then he was moving closer, making my heartbeat stutter.
He stepped behind me, anchoring an arm across my lower stomach, and dragging me back against his firm body.
Leaning down, his lips met my neck, making a needy whimper escape me.
“What I’m trying to say is I have nothing to wear.”
“I’m not seeing a problem.”
This time, I felt the chuckle move through him.
“Maybe not for the moment, but if we need to leave this place…”
“Let’s not,” I said, feeling dreamy and, yes, unbearably turned on again. “Let’s just stay here.”
“Don’t got a problem with that idea. Unless someone shows up with guns.”
“Ugh,” I grumbled.
“Sorry to kill the mood,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all as his fingers dug into my hip in a way that could only be described as possessive.
I didn’t want to be possessed.
And yet, for him, maybe I did.
His face shifted up, beard teasing over my jaw. Then his teeth grazed my earlobe.
I melted.
