“Might need your help here, buddy. Think we can convince your daddy to talk to me?”
CHAPTER 8
HUDSON
Goosebumps erupted across my skin as the now-cold water beat against my body. I’d gone from being hot enough to combust twenty minutes ago to nervous chills rattling my bones.
In all the mental calculations I’d made before developing my great idea to watch a sexy show with Leo, I never considered jerking off together as a possible outcome. Bolting wasn’t on my list of possibilities either. I’d expected to gauge his reaction to the naked guy stuff, then spend days—more like weeks or months—calculating my next move. Assuming I worked up the nerve to make one.
I rested my forehead against the shower wall. Earlier, I’d naively had myself half convinced that maybe Leo liked guys, and I just didn’t know. We’d never declared our sexualities to each other, and I’d assumed he was as straight as me. I tugged my hair. Everything had gotten ten times more complicated since I’d woken up yesterday.
I hadn’t bolted because I was ashamed of what we’d done but because, in the post-orgasm clarity, I worried I liked it too much. That it would mean something to me but not to him. Ever-chill Leo would’ve held up his dirty palm and laughed it off. But me racing out of there made it “An Issue.”
The rapidly freezing water chased me out of the shower. I’d needed two closed doors between me and my shame, so there was no way I could even look at myself in the mirror as I dried off.
If the universe was on my side, I could get away with hiding in my room until morning. I might get lucky. Leo could take off early to give us space, and by the time Monday rolled around, we would be back to normal. Yeah, right.
I wrapped the towel around my waist, opened the bathroom door, and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Leo sprawled on my bed, arms tucked behind his head as he rested on one of my pillows. Not a care in the world. I cautiously stepped into my bedroom.
I should’ve expected this. Leo and I’d had our fair share of roommate disagreements as we adapted to living together, which was understandable given our drastically different definitions of “keeping house” and his ridiculous habit of leaving uncovered butter on the counter like a heathen. He liked to face arguments head-on, while I had a habit of letting them stew.
Leo stared at me—hard enough that I couldn’t look away. His gaze dragged up and down my body like a caress.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You’ve seen me without a shirt on before.”
Leo’s sexy smirk stole my breath. Leo? Sexy? Had I woken up in another timeline?
“I have, but now I know what’s under the towel, and I have all the mental images to piece together for the full…package.” His eyes lingered on the package in question, which twitched under the too-small towel.
“And?” My voice shook as I stood rooted to the spot with my cat twining around my legs.
“I like it. A lot.”
My jaw unclenched when Leo’s expression softened into a familiar one. I’d seen it the first time we met and he invited me to join his bowling team after I’d confessed I wasn’t very good. He’d smiled like that when I opened up to him about the problems in my marriage and again when I told him we were getting divorced. Leo employed that smile when things were particularly tough at work, and even when I’d gotten frustrated as we’d navigated living together and he pushed for us to sort it out. That smile said everything would be okay.
I turned to my dresser to pull out a T-shirt and sleeping pants. “You’re here to talk, aren’t you?”
“It’s like you know me.”
Talking about feelings wasn’t my favorite thing, but Leo made it safe to try. I’d never experienced that with another person before. Not to the depth I had with him.
“Fine, but close your eyes.” When he started to argue, I glared at him over my shoulder.
He grinned and made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. I quickly dropped the towel and pulled on my sleep pants. When I looked back, he was peeking through his fingers.
“Cut me some slack. I like the view.”
My lips twitched.
After tugging a shirt on, I walked to the bed, sat stiffly against the headboard, and dropped my pillow onto my lap, hugging it close. Leo sat up too. So close that our thighs touched. The heat from that simple contact chased away the lingering chill from the shower. General Ledger jumped on the bed and curled up at our feet.
Leo gasped. “She’s voluntarily sitting near me. Think she’s got a fever?” He spoke in a weird combination of stilted and overacting. He was a terrible liar but too good at withholding information.
“You won’t win an Oscar anytime soon for that performance.”
“What do you mean?”
I turned to him and saw fear flash in his eyes.
