He was still lounging there, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t just stroll out half-naked and ruin my entire nervous system.
His stupid, damp hair kept dripping onto his shoulders, and one tiny drop rolled down his neck.
Like, I was in some slow-motion shampoo commercial.
I groaned into my hands. This is torture.
"What is?" His voice was lazy, amused. Like he already knew but wanted me to admit it.
Damn it, did I just say it out loud?
I peeked between my fingers. Mistake number five hundred today.
He wasn’t even pretending to dry off anymore. The towel had shifted just a little lower, and holy mother of gravity, it was hanging on for dear life.
I shot to my feet like the bed was on fire. "Clothes. Put on clothes. Now. Please. I beg of you."
His brow quirked up, calm as ever. "Why? Uncomfortable?"
"Uncomfortable?!" My voice went embarrassingly high-pitched. "This is... this is... indecent! I am a lady, and you should not do such indecency."
He leaned back further into the couch, stretching like he had all the time in the world. His abs freaking flexed. Flexed
At last, he arched his one eyebrow while his lips curved into that smug little almost-smile.
The kind that said he knew exactly what he was doing to me and enjoyed every damn second of it.
Oh, how I wanted to throw another pillow at his face. Or maybe my entire existence.
"That’s not the point," I snapped, though my voice cracked halfway through.
"You...you can’t just...just stand there dripping like some... some walking Calvin Klein ad! It’s immoral. Unethical. Inhuman!"
Dave tilted his head, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead.
He didn’t bother brushing it back. He just let another droplet of water slide right down the column of his throat while watching me absolutely combust in real time.
"Immoral?" he repeated, his voice smooth, like velvet laced with danger. "Last I checked, marriage vows made us very moral together."
My jaw hit the floor. "D-Don’t twist words like that!"
He finally set his phone aside and rested his arms along the back of the couch, towel dangerously loose, chest all lean lines and warm skin.
He was the picture of casual power, and I was just... me. Sweaty-palmed. Blushing so hard I probably looked like a ripe strawberry on legs.
I pointed at him again, hands shaking. "You think you’re funny, don’t you?"
"Sometimes," he said easily. "But right now? I think you’re funny."
My eyes narrowed into daggers. "Excuse me?"
"Red face. Flailing hands. The way you can’t look at me for more than three seconds before staring at the ceiling or the floor..." He trailed off, that infuriating smirk deepening. "Cute."
If the earth could’ve opened up and swallowed me whole, I would’ve gladly jumped in. "I am not
"Disgusted?" He pushed himself up a little, leaning forward now, voice dropping lower, softer. "So you’re disgusted by me?"
My mouth opened. Nothing came out. My brain cells had officially filed for divorce.
"I...no, I mean...yes! Yes, of course. Obviously. Completely disgusted."
His eyes locked on mine, sharp and steady, and suddenly, the room felt too small.
Like all the oxygen had been sucked out, leaving me only with his gaze.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached down and tugged at the corner of the towel as if he might let it slip.
"Don’t you dare!" I yelped, practically diving across the bed to grab the nearest pillow and hold it up like a shield. My heart was beating as if it was trying to escape my chest.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Relax. I’m not indecent enough to test gravity."
"You..." I choked, fumbling with words. "You absolute menace. I hate you."
He leaned back again, smug as hell. "If you hated me, you wouldn’t blush this hard."
My face must’ve been the color of lava now. "Shut up."
My heart stuttered violently. My mind blanked.
The words ’make me’ echoed in my skull like some forbidden spell, and I stood there, pillow clutched to my chest, unable to move, unable to breathe.
He was watching me so closely, eyes dark and unreadable now, the teasing gone...or maybe just hidden under something heavier. Something that made my knees go weak.
I swallowed hard. My throat was so dry it hurt. "You’re... insufferable."
"Maybe." His voice was low. Careful. But then his gaze softened, just a fraction.
"But I am still your husband."
The banter, the teasing, the smirk...all of it suddenly weighed differently. Because under all that, there it was. The truth I’d been pretending not to see.
My chest squeezed tight.
And for one insane second, I wanted to forget everything else...Nicole’s fake smiles, Grandpa’s cold eyes, this stupid mansion...and cross the space between us.
But reality slapped me right back.
No. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Dangerous territory.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do when my brain short-circuited. I grabbed another pillow and threw it at his face.
"Go put on clothes, you caveman!"
The pillow hit him square in the chest, and instead of being offended, he just laughed.
A deep, warm laugh that wrapped around me in ways I hated to admit I liked.
"You’re impossible," I muttered, collapsing back onto the bed and covering my face with my hands.
"And you’re entertaining," he said, settling back into the couch like he’d won some silent battle.
I peeked at him between my fingers. He’d finally pulled the blanket higher around his waist, but his eyes... his eyes were still on me. Calm. Amused. And maybe, just maybe, something more.
The air felt thick again. Charged.
I should’ve looked away. I should’ve ignored it.
Because the truth was...no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop watching him either.