"Fuck," he practically groans.
I glance at him, confused. "What?"
He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip on himself. "I honestly didn’t think there was any way you could look hotter than you already do."
I stop.
"What?"
"Butt naked," he adds, his voice rough, "and wet. Fuck!."
The words register all at once and I look down at myself, I am butt ass bnaked.
Fuck! Fuck!!!!
I scream and grab the nearest pillow off the chair and hurl it straight at his face.
"Get out!" I yell. "Get the fuck out of the room right now!"
He catches the pillow easily, laughing under his breath as he backs toward the door.
"Relax," he says. "I’m going."
"I mean it, Zane! Go!!"
"I can tell."
He tosses the pillow back onto the chair and turns to leave, still amused, which only makes me angrier.
As he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder. "Get dressed and come downstairs little spitfire. Dinners ready."
Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stand there for a second, heart pounding, water still dripping down my legs, absolutely mortified.
"Idiot," I mutter to myself, slapping my forehead a few times.
I rush to the bed, grab a towel, and wrap it around myself tight, like that’ll undo what just happened.
My face is burning red.
———
Zane’s POV
Thirty five minutes later, Elaine comes down the stairs.
I don’t need to look up right away to know it’s her, the sound of her footsteps is different from everyone else’s. Lighter.
When I finally lift my head, I don’t expect what I’m seeing.
She’s wearing my clothes and holy fuck!! It’s hot as hell seeing her in my t-shirt.
A shirt that definitely didn’t belong to her yesterday hangs off her shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up.
I should be annoyed.
I am annoyed.
But it’s hard to summon real anger when she looks like that, standing halfway down the staircase, one hand gripping the railing, and her eyes scanning the room. I shift my weight trying to hide my cock tenting in my pants.
She hesitates for a second when she sees me.
It’s subtle. Anyone else would miss it but I don’t I see the way her shoulders stiffen and the way her chin lifts jus a fraction.
She keeps walking anyway.
I lean back in my chair and watch her cross the room. Not like I’m tracking her. Just enough to notice the details she probably thinks no one pays attention to.. The faint tension in her posture. The way her fingers fidget with the hem of the shirt like she’s grounding herself
She stops at the counter, reaches for a glass, pours herself water without asking.
Good.
At least she’s stopped acting like a guest.



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