Three Simple Rules (Blindfold Club 1)

Interesting. But . . . “You can do better than that.”

“All right. The rest of the weekend.” He pulled his shoes and socks off, and stepped out of his pants so he was as naked as I was. I smiled in acceptance. He’d said it begrudgingly like this was a huge concession, and I relished it.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cuddler,” I said when he slipped into the bed. He was on his back and pulled me up against him so my cheek was on his shoulder. He was warm, and his cologne smelled amazing. Like a man. His hand went to my knee and pulled it over his thigh to tuck me around him, our damp skin sticking together.

“You’re surprised I want to have a beautiful, naked woman draped on me?”

“Not when you put it like that, no.”

I put my hand on his chest and let my fingers wander, tracing patterns over his heart. He turned his head and brushed his lips over my forehead in a kiss and then sighed.

“It’s getting late,” he said in a hushed voice, “and we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“I know,” I said. “I just like touching you. Feel free to fall asleep.”

“So you can steal my virtue? No thank you.” His arms tightened on me. “Sleep. You can have your way with me tomorrow.”

I woke early and alone, and called out to him but got no response. I yanked the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around myself, then roamed into the kitchen to discover the note he’d left for me there.

“Gone for a run, be back by seven forty-five. Diet Coke in the fridge.”

Years of working together had taught him I didn’t start my day with coffee, but with a silver can of soda. I cinched the sheet tighter at the cold from the fridge, retrieving the can, and when I shut the door I glanced into the living room.

The clothes we’d dropped in there were gone. He must have hung them up while I was sleeping. There was a spray bottle of Windex with a towel folded over top, from where he’d cleaned the glass. What a little neat freak he was. It brought a smile to my face when I wondered if he got turned on cleaning the smudges we’d put there.

I popped the top on the can and took a sip when I heard the door open behind me.

“It’s fucking hot out there,” he said.

I almost dropped the can when I turned to face him. He had on a pair of shoes and shorts, but no shirt, and a black armband that carried his iPhone. Sweat rolled down his flushed face and dripped from his tanned and toned chest. He pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and drank while undoing the Velcro of his armband, and then set it on the counter.

I just stood there, awestruck, as he finished the entire bottle. He tossed it in the recycling bin, pulled a water bottle from the fridge, and turned his focus to me.

“I’m sorry I had to go out, but I have to stick to my training schedule.” He took a breath, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“I’m just trying not to drool.”

A smile broke on his face. “I’m a sweaty mess. You’re the one wearing nothing but my sheets. Take them off.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to fuck you in the shower. If you don’t mind.”

Sometimes I think he said things like that to catch me off-guard, but I loved throwing it right back at him.

I dropped the sheet to the floor. “I guess we could do that.”

There was a crunch of plastic as his grip tightened on the bottle.

chapter

THIRTEEN

This was another first for me. It’s not like the showers in my college apartments were spacious or remotely sexy, and the shower in my place now barely had room for one.

I stood awkwardly in the semi-hall

way between his bedroom and bathroom, watching him toe off his shoes and toss his socks into a laundry basket. In one swift move, he yanked down his shorts and boxers and added them to the basket, his feet falling heavily on the floor as he moved toward me.