Page 53

My eyes trace down before I can stop myself.

There’s a thin line of darker hair beneath his navel, which continues right into the towel. And the fucking V, the stupid line where his hips disappear beneath the fabric. This can’t be natural; no one naturally looks like that.

“Vesper?”

I drag my eyes back up his body to meet his gaze, and I’m still holding my coffee halfway to my mouth.

“What?” I snap.

His mouth curves up at the corners. “Nothing.”

“Then why did you say my name?”

“Because you were staring at me.”

I scoff. “I was looking at your bruises.”

He looks down. “My bruises are mostly on my ribs.”

“I can see your ribs.”

“My towel is not covering my ribs.”

Smartass! I take a drink of coffee because it gives me something to do that doesn’t involve continuing this conversation.

“You look less like someone threw you down the stairs.” My mouth chooses violence anyway.

He doesn’t rise to my jab as he walks into the kitchen, and I watch him—for fuck’s sake. Jensen opens the fridge and bends slightly to look inside.

Nope, absolutely not. This is not happening.

I miss the musical idiot, and now I’m apparently checking out the stray. Something has gone horribly wrong with my life.

“Did you eat the leftovers?” Jensen asks.

“What?”

“The pasta,” he says, straightening up and looking at me.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know if you ate something?”

“I eat lots of things,” I say.

He smirks at me. “That sounded dirty.”

“It wasn’t,” I snap. Him being in a towel is hurting my brain and I can’t focus.

“Disappointing.” He closes the fridge, and I narrow my eyes.

He is getting too comfortable—that’s the problem. When Jensen first got here, he looked like he was waiting for someone to kick the chair out from beneath him. Now he is smiling more and making smartass comments, stealing my coffee and leaving his shoes beside my couch. Yesterday I found his phone charger plugged in beside mine, and instead of being annoyed, I moved mine to the other outlet. That should have been my first warning.

“You’re staring again.”

“Then put some fucking clothes on.”

Jensen glances down at himself. “I was getting myself breakfast while my clothes dried.”