Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

I got to my feet and stood up, Alex rising with me.

“Okay,” she said, backing up and pointing to the hook on the wall. “Towels are here, and there’s a bag for your wet clothes, too. I’ve got some dry ones sitting on the bench right outside.”

I nodded, reluctantly appreciating how she’d thought of everything. I hadn’t called any of the guys, so I didn’t have clothes, and I’d need to wear something while my own dried. I knew they had washers and dryers available for the gym towel service.

She quickly left, and I reached over, shutting off the water. Taking one of the towels off the hook, I patted my still-braided hair dry and hung it back up, hurriedly taking off my clothes. I peeled off my soaked jacket and dropped it to the floor, following quickly with my flannel shirt, shoes, socks, jeans, and underthings. Every unraveling of the bindings around my chest felt more glorious than the last, until finally my breasts were freed, hitting the air.

I closed my eyes, letting out a small moan. I wrapped myself in the same towel and quickly stuffed the wet clothes in one of the white tote bags Sensou sold at the front desk that Alex had apparently brought me. Undoing the braids in my hair, I shook the locks free, massaging my scalp with the other towel.

Reaching outside the door, I grabbed the small stack of clothes, hearing several other women in the locker room talking. The gym must be open for business by now.

Closing the door, I peeked through the stack, looking for the rest of the clothes.

“What?” I blurted out.

Black stretch pants that looked like a second skin and a gray sports bra with a Nike symbol in the middle. I groaned. Where was the fucking rest of it? I couldn’t wear this shit.

“Ugh,” I growled, holding onto the bra and slipping the pants on. She had to have something else out there. Or at least a sweatshirt.

I pulled up the pants, the soft fabric wrapping around my thighs and behind, and I groaned at the discomfort. It was weird to have something matted to my skin like this. But when I pulled the towel off and reached over to hang it up, I paused, noticing how good the form-fitting pants felt to move in. A ton lighter.

Slipping my arms through the openings in the bra, I squeezed my head through the middle and pulled the bra down, quickly adjusting my breasts to fit inside.

I blinked long and hard. Oh, God. I felt naked. I pulled my hair over one shoulder, trying to cover my breasts that were damn near popping out of her top, and folded my hands over my bare stomach.

I opened the door a crack, peeking out. I didn’t want to walk out there like this.

Oh, who was I kidding? Every woman here was practically dressed like this. I wouldn’t stand out. Damon had made me so self-conscious, like if I showed an ankle, men would pounce like wolves.

Patting my feet dry again, I stepped out, picking up the bag of clothes and tossing the towels in the basket right outside the shower.

I walked into the locker room, seeing a few women scurrying about to get to their workouts.

“You look good,” a voice said.

I looked up, seeing Alex standing with her hands on her hips and nodding at me as her eyes scaled me up and down.

I tensed.

“We’re about the same size,” she mused, coming over and taking my hand. “Wouldn’t know it by the way you drown in your usual clothes.”

She grabbed the bag from me, and I watched as she tossed it to an attendant—a young woman in a black Sensou polo—who carried it off somewhere, hopefully to the dryers.

“My clothes aren’t that big,” I mumbled.

She led me over to the vanities and pushed my shoulders down, my tired legs giving out under me and my ass slamming into the seat. She immediately started brushing my hair.

“I can do it,” I snapped, reaching for the brush.

But she pulled away. “You can’t,” she told me, plucking a foil-wrapped object off the counter and dropping it in my lap. “You have to eat.”

I picked up the soft, warm roll. “What’s this?”

“Kai had some breakfast burritos delivered.”

I dropped it back to my lap. “I’m fine.”

“He said you’d say that.” She held a fistful of my hair, working intently on brushing the ends. “He also said you’re smart enough to pick your battles, and someone as practical as you wouldn’t split hairs over a stupid burrito.”