Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I felt that same sense of disappointment I’d had at the bar, when he’d given up on a second date. God, was I turning into one of those crazy girls who wouldn’t tell a guy what she really wanted, and then got angry because he couldn’t read her mind?
Or maybe it was just a weird night. I needed a shower and some sleep. There’d be time in the morning to decide if I’d lost my mind.
“Thanks,” I said, then shut the bathroom door.
I felt a thousand times better after the shower, although I hadn’t put my clothes out for Rome to wash. They were dirty, of course, and they’d be super uncomfortable to sleep in… but handing them over seemed wrong, somehow.
I poked through the clean pile, trying to make up my mind. Rome had given me a pair of basketball shorts (complete with helpful drawstring) and a faded gray T-shirt that was super soft from being washed a thousand times. There was a firefighters’ union logo—IAFF Local 5835—across the front. I bet it hugged those sexy muscles of his nice and tight.
On me it would be more like a nightgown.
A clean, comfortable nightgown. Running my fingers across the soft cotton, I decided that while wearing his clothes might be weird, torturing myself by wearing uncomfortable, dirty stuff wasn’t going to make my life any easier.
I’d feel way better in the morning putting on something clean.
Reaching for my panties, I saw the push-up bra I’d borrowed from Lexi sitting on the counter. No way was I handing that over. I should probably just wear it under the T-shirt, I decided. That way I wouldn’t nip out. But it made my boobs look fantastic for a reason—the thing had serious structural support.
The kind of structural support only a masochist would consider wearing to bed.
Not only that, if I threw it in with the rest of my clothes, there was a very good chance the washing machine would tear it to shreds.
Then Lexi would never be able to wear it again.
Making a snap decision, I decided to sleep in bra-free comfort for the sake of my sister. It only took a minute to pull on the shirt and shorts. I stepped out of the bathroom to find Rome lounging on his bed, wearing only sweat pants. His hands were tucked back behind his head, and he’d turned on the TV mounted on the wall.
Labyrinth was playing.
That would be Labyrinth, the 1980s movie, starring David Bowie (as the goblin king), David Bowie’s junk (which was so prominent that it deserved separate billing), and a whole bunch of singing puppets.
“Hey, I’ll take those for you,” Rome said, standing up.
“It’s okay—I can start them. Just tell me where the washer is.”
“I got it,” he insisted, and for a minute I considered arguing with him. Then he got up, and I got distracted by the sight of his bare chest. All those muscles I’d only felt before were on full display, and they were glorious, indeed.
He smelled good, too. That’s when I noticed his hair was wet.
“Did you take a shower, too?”
“Yeah, there’s a little shower in the other bathroom,” he said. “But it’s really cramped and I haven’t cleaned it in weeks. Didn’t want to put you in there.”
“That was sweet.”
He smiled like an angel, and I considered swooning. I’d never actually tried swooning before, but this seemed like an appropriate situation. “I’m not sweet, Randi. Not even a little bit. Now give me your clothes and I’ll start the wash.”
I handed them over, thinking that whatever he said, Rome really was kind of sweet. I mean, how many guys did laundry for women who’d shut them down? He opened a closet against the same wall as the bathroom, revealing a stacked washer and dryer.
On the TV, Bowie and the puppets were singing about magic dances, and then he started throwing a baby around. I watched, feeling myself zone out. Rome casually strolled back to the bed.
“You know this one?” he asked, nodding toward the TV.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “I watched it all the time as a kid. My mom loved it, too. It’s cute.”
“That guy’s dick could poke your eye out.”
I shrugged, faintly embarrassed, because he was right. “Okay, so it’s cute in a pokey kind of way.”
“Want to watch for a while?” he asked. “The wash cycle won’t take long, but I don’t want to go to sleep until your stuff is in the dryer. Otherwise you’ll have nothing to wear in the morning. You can help me stay awake.”
Swallowing, I nodded my head, telling myself it’d be rude to expect him to stay up doing my laundry while I slept. And it wasn’t like I could do it myself. Not if he took the bed and I was on the couch.
Agreeing had nothing to do with the fact that there was a half-naked, gorgeous man right in front of me. Like a delicious cupcake just waiting for me to lick off all the frosting…