I’m mid-grumble, telling them off in my head, when there’s a knock at the door.
I narrow my eyes, staring at it, debating whether or not to let whoever’s on the outside come in.
Oh my god. What am I going to do? Live here?
“Come in,” I bark, rolling my eyes.
The door opens slowly before Wells peeks his face in. “Still mad?”
“Depends,” I throw back. “Are you still planning on edging me till the end of eternity?”
He chuckles, not fucking answering the question. “May I come in?”
Is he actually trying to be a gentleman?Don’t piss me off.
“Your fingers have been inside of me. I think it’s okay if you see me nude.”
Because I’ve really adopted “brat” as my full personality, as soon as he steps inside the bathroom, holding a towel, I stand up in the middle of the tub.
Water drips down my body as I glare at him.
He freezes in place, half a smile on his face. But like the ungentlemanly swine he is, he dares to keep his eyes on mine.
I give a little scream-growl, and it makes him laugh before I point a finger at him. “You don’t get to laugh at me.” My finger shoots to the counter. “Leave the towel right over there unless you’re planning on doing something with all of this.”
My hands wave up and down my body. I shift my weight to put a hand on my hip, but that puts pressure on my fish foot, so I wince.
Wells reaches for me, closing the distance in a second. “Let me help you.”
I slap his hands away dramatically, making him laugh as I say, “I can take care of myself.”
But I suck in a breath when my foot hurts again.
It’s clear to me that whoever raised Wells didn’t have any manners because he’s a very poor listener. Instead of leaving me alone, he wraps the towel around my body, covering me completely.
“Oh yeah,” I breathe out. “Cover it up.”
“Cherry,” he says with way too much charm. “Let’s be friends again.”
I don’t say anything, just narrow my eyes.
Am I throwing a temper tantrum because I need to be fucked? I absolutely am.
And I’m unashamed.
Because I am not god’s strongest soldier.
I’ve been dry humped in a dressing room against a wall and eaten out in a damn garden like I was a fucking human ice cream cone.
My body isn’t used to this kind of attention. I’m on horny overload. And if somebody doesn’t start playing “just the tip” with my goddamn pussy, I’m going to lose my mind.
Wells offers his hand, and I take it with a scowl. He helps me step out of the tub, but I refuse to speak. I won’t even saythank you.
Once I’m out and standing on a bath mat, he brings his hands to the towel, moving them around my body as he helps dry me off.
I wish I didn’t audibly inhale, but I do, because I’m immediately turned on.
Damn if I didn’t just lose my train of thought because I had something sassy to say. But I’m not as quick on my feet when he’s touching me.
