“Nope,” I say, keeping my eyes on the game.
Her footsteps come closer until she’s standing directly in front of me, arms crossed, blocking the TV.
“Matt…”
I wish I were the kind of guy who could keep his eyes on her face.
I’m not.
Her bare legs are right there, and my gaze drags slowly up them.
“My eyes are up here,” she says, impatient.
I lift my gaze to find her staring at me, lips pressed tight, one brow raised, unimpressed.
“You were in your closet while I was in the bathroom.”
She says it like a realization, waiting for confirmation.
“Sorry,” I reply, smug. “Is that a question?”
“Matt,” she warns.
“I think the more important question is…” My lips twitch. “Why were you in my shower?”
Her cheeks flush instantly. “Oh my God.”
I chuckle.
“Oh my God, you heard me?” She shoves my arm.
“Ah, fuck,” I laugh.
She grabs a pillow and throws it at me. “God. I’m mortified.”
“Come on, babe. It’s normal.”
“I know it’s normal. What’s not normal is having you listen like a creep.” She pauses, clearly annoyed. “I thought you weren’t leaving work until eight?”
“I left early to get home for the game.” I grin. “Something I’ll be doing more often now that I know what you do when I’m gone.”
She groans, turning away. “I’m going to my room and may not come out until next week.”
“Don’t be lame. Get dressed and come watch the game with me. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” I smirk. “It was hot.”
She flips me off as she walks away, holding her finger high for me to see.
Watching her go sends my mind spiraling again. Makes me want to follow—slip my hands into that robe, see what other noises I can get her to make.
Shit.I’m hard again.
The crowd erupts on the screen, the announcer practically shouting, but I have no idea what just happened.
A few minutes later, Jordan drops onto the couch beside me.
In her fucking pajamas.
My gaze drops to her cleavage instantly.
