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I blink.

“Excuse me?”

“You appear uncomfortable with my nakedness.”

“That’s because I have eyes.”

His mouth twitches.

“Then turn around, little flower.”

I do.

Mostly.

There may be a tiny glance over my shoulder.

For educational purposes.

A moment later, he clears his throat.

“You may look.”

I turn.

And nearly swallow my tongue.

The sweatpants stretch across his thick thighs, hanging dangerously low on his hips. The black T-shirt clings to his chest and shoulders so tightly that the fabric looks like it’s about to tear.

His muscular arms strain against the sleeves.

“Oh, that’s not going to work.”

He glances down.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to burst out of that shirt.”

“Would you prefer that?”

“No.”

He raises an eyebrow.

I sigh.

“Possibly.”

His smile appears slowly.

The bastard.

“Noted.”

I step closer and tug at the hem of his shirt, trying to straighten the fabric.

“Hold still.”