It’s. A. Struggle.
I almost fall over twice, so I sit on the floor to fight with them instead. Wyatt is trying not to laugh. I can hear him up there.
Dammit!
I just want them off at this point. If I could, I would pay someone with scissors to cut them off me. So much for my seduction moves. I don’t even want to think about what I look like sprawled on the floor of the shower, fighting with my pants.
He crouches in front of me. His large, tanned, muscular body looks like the epitome of perfection. If he put his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, he could be The Thinker. That’s how perfect he looks.
He’s smiling.
I think I hate his smile.
“Can I help?” He even sounds like he wants to laugh.
“No.”
“Please?” he asks.
I throw my hands in the air. “Fine. I give up. Go for it.”
I lean back, supporting my weight with my arms, and lift my legs slightly. My core engages.
At least I have a strong core.
Wyatt pulls them off me. Quickly. Easily. One small tug.
I want to bury my head in a hole and hide there forever. The red-hot heat of embarrassment crawls up my neck to take over my face. How the hell did he do that so easily?
“Is it wrong that I find you incredibly sexy when you struggle with wet pants?” he asks.
“Shut up.” I stand and meet his eyes.
“No.”
I form a half smile and shake my head, mumbling, “So weird.”
“What?” he asks.
“So many things.”
“Like?”
“We’re naked in the shower together,” I start with the obvious.
“I know.” A wicked grin takes over his face, and he wiggles his eyebrows at me, making me laugh.
“Why do I feel so comfortable with you and so nervous at the same time?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
“If it helps, it’s the same for me,” he says.
“You’re nervous with me?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Are you kidding me?” he says it like it’s obvious. “Look at you, Brie?” He gestures toward me with his big, perfect, muscular arms like I’m something to be admired.
