Carter’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, right. The boss. I’ll do my best not to mess up.”
“Relax, man.” I flash him a grin. “As long as you don’t drinkthe last of the coffee without starting a new pot, and keep your station clean, we’ll get along just fine.”
“Noted,” he laughs, looking relieved as he retakes his seat.
“I gotta get this sugar bomb to Claire before she starts going through withdrawals,” I say, jerking a thumb toward the door. “Be good.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Lizzy calls out as I walk away.
Shaking my head, I push out the door, squinting in the bright morning sun. The one thing I do love about storms is how they leave everything feeling so fresh and clean.
After dropping off Claire’s food and coffee at the front desk, I settle in at my station and unwrap my breakfast sandwich. I’m about to take a bite when I remember I left my sketchbook out in the truck.
Just as my hand grasps the truck’s door handle, I hear a familiar shriek coming from inside Sasha’s building.
“What the hell?”
I jog across the street. The front door is open a crack, so I cautiously take a step inside. “Hello? Anyone in here?”
When there’s no response, I listen close and hear what sounds like someone grumbling, so I follow the sound.
“Hello?” I call again, louder this time.
As I round the corner, I hear mumbling coming from inside of what I think could be the women’s restroom. When I reach the doorway, I stop dead in my tracks.
“What the hell happened?” I ask, my eyes sweeping over the flooded bathroom before landing on a soaking wet Sasha.
She pushes a couple of wet strands of hair away from her face as she looks up at me. Completely soaked, she’s clutching a wrench in her hand and sitting in a puddle of water. Strands of wet hair are sticking to her forehead and neck, and I try not to laugh. The look on her face is a hilarious combination of shock and embarrassment.
“What does it look like? I tried to fix a leaky pipe, and it backfired on me. Literally.”
My eyes drift down, taking her in. And that’s when I notice her white T-shirt is plastered to her skin. It’s completely see-through, showing off not only a lacy white bra, but her hard pink nipples underneath.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I lean against the doorframe, letting my eyes rake over her drenched form, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Is there a cover charge for the wet T-shirt contest you’ve got goin’ on in here?”
She shoots me a glare.
“Are you okay?”
“Do Ilookokay?” she snaps, trying and failing to stand as she slips on the wet tile.
My mouth waters at the vision before me, and I have to force myself not to make a comment about how fucking ‘more than okay’ she actually looks. And my dick? Back in the game.
Damn, I’m fucking feral for this girl.
I bite back a grin and cross the room, carefully navigating a few puddles still dotting the floor.
Squatting down, I level my face with hers. “Need a hand up?”
“Of course not,” is her indignant response.
Planting her palms on the wet tile, she pushes herself up to standing, leaving my eyes perfectly in line with her crotch. Her leggings are soaked through, clinging to every curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
My mouth waters as I stare at the outline of her pussy, mere inches away from my face. I can practically feel the heat radiating from her core. All I would need to do is just lean forward a couple of inches and…
“Um, Jax?” Her voice sounds strained, breathless.
I drag my gaze up her body, past the see-through T-shirt andthat fucking lace bra, to meet her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s looking down at me with what looks a hell of a lot like desire.
