One big fist is locked around…a bottle? As I squint, he shifts his shoulder, wincing like he’s had a long day at the nets and needs a good soak.
What in the name of the Blessed Mother?
He rubs at the shoulder, shifting his big body underneath the cloak of bubbles, and I see his thick pectoral—
“BAAAAAAAAH!”
Baby bleats, I jump, and Declan jolts up in a slosh of bubbles. He looks stunned, confused, then horror-stricken as his gaze falls to the bubbles.
“FUCK!” He bats at his lap, sloshing water all about. Then he jumps up, slapping at the water’s surface, yelling, “FUCK! FUCK! Aghh, goddamn it…”
I’m gaping at his bubble-covered bum when his hand connects with the tub’s side instead of the bubbles, making a sharp, metal sound that sets my heart racing.
“I’m sorry,” I manage.
He leans lower, shoveling water from the tub onto the floor. Then he steps onto the rug, his massive body dripping bubbles. He mutters something, spins away from me. “FUCK!”
I step back. His backside...it’s so muscular. Quite unreal, really. He turns sideways, facing the wall, his arms drawn up about his head, and I can see his—
Don’t look!
I make a noise—something like “whoawhoa”—and he whirls toward me, looking murderous. “And who the fuck are you?”
MALE PARTS! Not for long, merely an instant before my gaze leaps to his furious face. But I can feel my own cheeks burning.
“I’m sorry. I came to get—”
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“This was my Gam— err, my grandmother’s home.”
His face is pure fury: that lovely mouth pulled taut, his brows drawn down, his ocean-blue eyes narrowed with contempt.
“Your grandmother used to live here, so you thought you could let yourself inside, wander around, then into the bathroom, without knocking?”
I take another step back. I’m not looking down, but I can sense the size of it in my periphery, the way it simply hangs there, dripping bubbles on the floor.
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean—what I mean to convey is, I thought you weren’t home.”
He steps forward. “You knew I was staying here? And you still barged in?”
My neck and cheeks are burning, suddenly with irritation. “I knocked quite a lot and called for you. You didn’t answer.”
“What kind of person lets herself into a house where she knows someone else is staying? Even if the person isn’t home? Is that how you do things here? No regard for other people’s privacy?”
Anger stiffens my spine. “Absolutely not. I required something I could only get here. Frozen milk for her.” I hold up Baby, who bleats woefully, as if on cue.
Declan tilts his head, then makes a show of looking around the bathroom, as if to point out there’s no milk in the bathroom.
I grit my molars. “I had no clue you were here. As I said, I knocked—”
“I was asleep.”
“I knocked loudly on the front door, many times.”
“And then you let yourself in.”
“Hardly novel!” I’m surprised by the edge in my voice, more surprised to find that I feel angry and not frightened when his face tightens. “I knocked many times, as is the proper custom universally. When no one answered, I came in to get something essential. Is that a crime where you hail from?”