Kiss Me Again (Kiss Me 3)

I slammed the door shut and ran out into the kitchen. My heart was beating like a drum, and the mild panic I felt at seeing his bare ass had my hands shaking with adrenaline.

Oh. My. God.

Why hadn’t I knocked?

“What the hell are you doing?” Ethan asked, running out into the kitchen in his boxers. “Ava!”

“I thought you were at work!” I blurted out. Like that explained everything. Jesus.

“Do you regularly go into my room when I’m not here?”

“No! I heard a bang and some noises and I thought the hedgehog was free.”

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He rubbed his fingertips against his temple for a moment and blew out a long breath. “And what exactly did you intend to do if he was free? You can’t even look at him, let alone touch him to put him back in his cage.”

I shuffled side to side. “Maybe scoop him up in a pan and drop him back in?”

“Scoop him up in—fucking hell. You haven’t had your coffee yet, have you?”

“Why am I at fault here? Why aren’t you at work? Why are you naked in your bedroom in the middle of the day?”

“It’s not the middle of the day,” he replied, approaching the island and leaning against it. “I was naked because I was changing my underwear, and that requires the removal of clothing. I’m not at work because someone broke a glass last night and cut my finger open, and my boss doesn’t want me bleeding in someone’s engine today. And to answer your last question, you’re at fault because you stormed into my bedroom.”

That was tough logic to argue.

“And now you’re extremely frustrating because you’re standing here in your underwear, and you may as well be shirtless because that shirt is thinner than my grandpa’s hair.”

I clamped my arm over my boobs. “I didn’t know you were here or I’d put on a bra.”

“The coconut panties add a real something special to it.”

“I don’t see the problem here.”

“That’s because I’m hiding it behind this counter,” he ground out, jaw tight.

I paused, my gaze running over him until it hit his lower stomach. It was pressed right against the countertop on the island, and my lips slowly formed an ‘o’ shape.

“Oh.” It came out all squeaky. “I see. I don’t see, but I see.” I cleared my throat, blushing. “I get it.”

He gave me a tight smile. “Now, I don’t know how we handle this. Who leaves first?”

“Um. I’ll close my eyes, and you go.”

“I think I’ll close my eyes, and you go.”

“If this is part of your passive-aggressive shit, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he said, deadly serious. “Seriously. Go.” He closed his eyes and used his hand to cover them.

I had no choice.

It was on me.

And, apparently, Angelica was right.

How about that?

I ran to my room and pushed the door shut so hard it rattled on its hinges. My heart had reverted back to its crazy thud-thud-thud against my ribs, and I was inexplicably breathless.

Not even I was such a bad runner that I should be out of breath from that quick escape.

I dropped on the edge of my bed. I’d left my damn coffee out in the kitchen, so I’d have to get dressed to retrieve it.

I grabbed a bra, shirt, and leggings from my dresser and moved to the underwear drawer. After getting a pair of panties that were not covered in any kind of fruit, I turned my attention to my socks.

The drawer was a hot mess, as always. I rifled through the socks looking for a matching pair, even going so far as to take some out and lay them on top of the dresser just in case.

It was useless.

There were no pairs.

Only a drawer full of odd socks.

How was it even remotely possible that one of every single pair of socks had just upped and—

Son of a bitch.

I threw the socks in my hand into the drawer and turned on my heels. “Ethan!” I shouted, yanking my door open. “Ethan! Where the fuck are my socks?” I stormed back into the kitchen where I’d left him, but he wasn’t there.

He had to be back in his room, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“Ethan!” I pummeled my fist against his door. “Open this damn door before I break it down!”

“I’m naked!”

“I don’t care! Open this door so I can choke you until you talk!”

The door swung open, and he leaned against it, still in nothing but his boxers, and still with a relatively clear bulge in them.

Ahem.

“If you choke me, I can’t answer a thing.” His lips curved into an infuriating smirk. “What’s this about your socks?”

“My socks.” I put my hands on my hips. “Half of my socks are missing.”

“Are they in the laundry basket?”