Sitting on the toilet, she thought for a second that she should lock the door. But there was a ledge, he wouldn’t be able to see her using the bathroom. Plus, she would scream at him to leave before he would know what was going on. When she was done, she went to the sink to wash up, when from around the corner Jordie came out of the shower, rubbing his head with a towel and a razor in his hand.
With nothing around his waist.
Blinking dumbly, her jaw dropped as he threw his towel on the counter to clean out his razor. She hadn’t seen him naked in months and, like before, she was positively breathless. His body was toned, not like it had been before, but the definition was there. Her mouth promptly went dry. As her eyes drank him in, she took in the body she had worshiped for those four amazing months. His arms were covered in tattoos just the way she loved, each one distinct and all him. He loved stylized skulls and had a few along his arm. They coexisted with a pin-up girl wearing a hockey jersey that hung off her shoulder. Roses took up most of the rest of the spaces on his arm. It was all black and gray and beautiful. Along his hip, he had a huge three with a hockey stick shooting a puck. He had gotten it when he was eighteen. His first tattoo. It was her favorite.
The hair on his chest was short from where he had shaved. She usually liked when he left it long, but that wasn’t what she was looking at for long. His cock was hanging there, looking fucking delish, and she didn’t know what to do. All kinds of images came to mind as her stomach clenched with want. The first time they’d had sex was against the very sink she was standing in front of, and it had all started when he came out of the shower naked.
But that would not happen again!
“Um?” she gasped, and he looked over at her blankly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re naked.”
He looked down, turning to her and nodding. “Yeah, I just got done showering and manscaping.”
Of course, that caused her to look down at where he had, in fact, done a wonderful job manscaping around his huge cock. She gripped the sink, sucking in a breath as his grin grew.
“Looks good, right?” he said proudly, and she was speechless.
Utterly speechless.
“Okay, well, I’m beat. You kicked my ass today,” he said, completely unaffected by her gawking. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
He turned, heading for his room, his perfect, thick ass for all the world to see, and Kacey could not speak. She was stunned into silence. Was this really happening? Also, why was it taking everything out of her not to grab his ass?
When he reached the door, he turned and looked at her.
“By the way, Kelly is a big mountain of dildos. You could do a lot better.”
She could only blink at him, but he waited for a response, which was very unlike him. Usually, he’d say something and then shut the door so he wouldn’t have to hear her take. But this time, he waited, and that stunned her just as much as his huge monster of a cock did. Oh, and his statement.
Finally finding her voice, she spat out, “Why do you care?”
“Because I care about you.”
He again waited for a response, but she had nothing. She knew this was the part when she should ask where he had been, why he had cut off contact. But instead, she just shook her head. She couldn’t do this right now. She was exhausted, mentally and physically.
“Well, stop,” she demanded, but Jordie was the one shaking his head.
“I can’t,” he said softly. “I won’t.”
Before she could say something, though, really, she wasn’t even sure what that would be, he said, “Good night, Kacey.”
And shut the door, ending the conversation.
Staring at the door, Kacey was unsure what had just happened. But she was sure she would never get the image of his cock out of her head. And if she were honest, she would admit that she hadn’t ever since she’d last slept with him. But none of that mattered. What did matter was what he said: I can’t. I won’t. What did that even mean? He apparently didn’t love her. Didn’t want her. But what if he did?