myself . . . and all the while, a distant part of my brain tracked the puddle of water from my dropped mug as it slowly moved closer to her.
Six inches away.
At her feet.
Her shins.
Her knees.
That was when she felt the water, her voice abruptly cutting off and she bent to glance between her thighs.
And yes, I groaned out loud because—one, pervert, and two, the way she’d moved had tightened the denim over that luscious fucking ass and it was the hottest thing I’d seen in a long time.
Hell, maybe the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Which was a problem, since I’d been telling myself repeatedly that Charlie wasn’t for me, but also not one I was willing to pay attention to in that moment.
“What?”
She pushed off her knees, still staring down at the puddle on the floor.
Slowly, she turned and when she saw me standing there, staring at her, she jumped, gasping loudly. One hand went up to her earbud, yanking it out. “What the fuck, Garret?”
I bent, picked up my mug, holding it surreptitiously in front of myself.
I’d chosen exercise shorts, and they weren’t exactly hiding the enjoyment I’d gotten from watching Charlie.
Yes, still a pervert. No, I didn’t really want to make her uncomfortable.
“S-sorry,” I said on a cough. “You startled me, and I dropped this.” I started to lift the mug but caught myself just in time.
Charlie’s eyes drifting slowly down my chest made me realize I’d skipped putting on a shirt. Then they slid lower and her cheeks went pink, and I came to the conclusion that the mug wasn’t hiding much either.
Another cough.
“I’ll grab a towel,” I said, spinning around. “Sorry, I got you wet.”
Charged silence was all that greeted me in return, and I paused, glancing over my shoulder, taking in the growing spread of pink on her cheeks, going back over what I’d said.
Got you wet.
I’d like to do that.
Fuck.
Yes, also would like to do that.
Shaking myself, I made my way to the cabinet with the hand towels then hurried to come back and mop up the floor.
I was getting a lot of experience doing this lately.
Charlie didn’t move, just kept standing there in those tight jeans, the knees slightly darkened from the water, her eyes tracing up and down my body. I could hear the music blaring from the earbud, a fast pop song that I’d heard all over the place, but more than that, I could hear how quickly she was breathing.
In. Out. In. Out. In—
Either I’d scared the shit out of her, or she was just as turned on as I was.
Both scenarios presented issues.
“I—”
My voice made her jump and tear her eyes away from my half-naked body, and not gonna lie, I liked feeling her gaze on my skin.
Another problem.
Ninety-nine problems and the—
Yeah, stopping that train of thought right there.
I cleared my throat, forced myself to focus. “Any chance you’re the reason my apartment doesn’t have water?”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Yes, I’m sorry. I turned it off because I’m working on that main line. I didn’t think you’d be up.”
“With you banging on my pipes?”
More blushing. More pretty pink cheeks.
“I guess I could have been a little quieter,” she said softly, almost to herself.
“With the singing? Or you making extra noise because I’m a semi-reformed asshole?”
Sparkling blue eyes met mine and she snorted.
“And that tells me you think the semi-reformed part is inaccurate,” I teased.
A roll of her eyes. “Hmm,” was all she hummed, not committing either way. Though, her eyes were still amused, and her mouth kept tipping up at the corners as if she were trying to smother a grin.
“So, any chance I can get a hot shower today?” I asked.
“Any chance you’re not going to be an asshole?” she countered.
I bit back a grin. “Not likely.”
“Then I return your answer back to you.”
“Not likely?”
She tapped her nose before turning back to the pipes in front of her. “Got it in one.”
A shrug. “Figured.”
I turned, taking the towel and mug with me.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“Why do you ask?” I called back.
“No reason,” she said.
“You like fighting with me, sweetheart?”
“Pft.” A beat. “Definitely not.”
I refilled the mug, dumped the towel in the dirty laundry bin, then headed for the door. “For the record,” I said, loud enough for her to still hear me. “I like fighting with you, too, baby.”
Her huff followed me through the door.
But more problematic was the fact that the five minutes I’d just spent with Charlie had made me feel more alive than