Page 105 of Bad Attitude
“Sleeping where?”
“In my bed. He’s healing.”
“That hot body, all that ink. Injured and helpless. Are you liking being on top?”
“You’re outrageous!” I swallow hard. Lower my voice, grateful that the shower’s running. “I haven’t taken advantage of him.”
“He needs help bathing and stuff though, right?”
I squirm in my chair. “I might’ve washed him.”
“How was that?”
“It was… nice.”
“I bet it was.” She gives a low whistle. “That ass. To get my hands on it… my tongue…”
“Damn, Cammy…!” My cheeks are heating. “He might be as hot as fuck, but I amnotgoing to lick his ass!”
“He’d probably love it,” she says with a laugh. “Most men do. It’s a sensitive…”
She’s still talking, but I don’t hear her. The air pressure’s changed, or the energy in the room, or my subconscious picked up something I didn’t track. But whatever sixth sense it is, I know he’s there.
I turn slowly, looking past the back of my chair, and he’s in the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist. Ten feet away. Staring at me. Dry. He hasn’t even got in the shower yet.
Oh, fuck no.
Blushing has never been this fast or this intense. It feels like my skin’s been blistered by the sun.
He clears his throat. “Just wanted to ask if I can use your shampoo?”
I wave a hand. “Sure. Whatever you like. Help yourself.”
He’s casual, I’m casual. Maybe hedidn’thear anything.
“Thank you.” He turns away, then pauses. “It’s not taking advantage if I’m willing.”
There is no response to that. There is literally no response to that.
Fuck my life. He heard it all. He heardeverything.
Cammy gasps in my ear, then laughs so loud Declan won’t be able to miss it either.
“Thanks a lot,” I mutter.
She cackles. “You’re welcome, girlie.”
I hang up on her.
He’s limping away, back to the shower, and I swear I hear him chuckle. His towel drops before he steps into the bathroom, like he knows I’m looking, showing me the ass I just denied I’d lick, while he was standingright there.
I’m so far past embarrassment I can’t even speak. It’s the specific, searing humiliation of being completely transparent, having no secrets left, and not even having chosen to give them up. And he’s not awkward, not surprised, not anything. Just dropping his towel like he knows the effect he has. Like he’s always known.
Seriously. Fuck. My. Life.
Twenty-One
Declan
