Depends On Who's Asking (SWAT Generation 2.0 12)

I swallowed my pride and stood up, tossing the bottles and soap into the shower.

“I forgot the shampoo and stuff that your butler got me,” I said. “And I think that the floor is really hard.”

There was a long moment of silence that stretched out for too long, so I got into the shower and ducked back under the spray.

I was halfway through my shower, conditioner now sitting in my hair, when I heard, “I put a towel down beside the shower. Don’t worry, I didn’t look. And I don’t have a butler.”

I licked my lips and opened my eyes to see that there was, indeed, a towel down.

And I hadn’t seen nor heard him come into the room with me.

But the thought of him looking at me while I was in here made shivers of desire ratchet through me.

However, my obvious inattention to what I was doing meant that I wasn’t paying attention to where the conditioner was in my hair. Meaning, it slid down my forehead and straight into my eye, burning the holy living hell out of it seconds later.

“Ahhh!” I cried, hastily rinsing off my eye.

“What?” I heard him call again over the dull roar of the shower.

“I got conditioner in my eye,” I whined.

There was another long pause then, “I can’t really help with that. I’m sorry.”

Amused by his words, I finished rinsing out my eye, then decided that tomorrow I was going to have to ask his butler or the CDC fairy for some razors.

As I stepped out, I was smiling when I saw the rack of towels.

Grabbing one off the bar, I wrapped it around myself and turned to survey the wall where the mirror should be.

“There’s no mirror,” I grumbled.

“That’s why I took my contacts out over by the minibar,” came his reply.

I looked around at the walls and decided that I would have to wait until I was dressed to do anything else.

Not that I could do anything else.

I had no hairdryer. No hair products. No moisturizing cream.

Hell, I didn’t even have deodorant.

Though, they’d sent Saint enough for way more than a month.

I’d have to use his.

“I forgot my clothes,” I found myself saying. “Not that I really want to put them on.”

“Why don’t you want to put them on?” he questioned.

I thought about not explaining, but then decided, fuck it.

I had no shame.

“I don’t do uncomfortable,” I admitted. “If it’s not soft and comfy, I’m not wearing it. And the thought of having to put on those unwashed clothes makes me want to hyperventilate.”

I came out of the bathroom then to see him leaned back on the bed, his head and upper body propped up by all of the massive pillows that decorated the bed.

He was also wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else.

And what I saw on his chest nearly brought me down to my knees.

He had chest hair.

Quite a bit of it, actually.

Not like Sasquatch amount chest hair, but a generous smattering amount that totally worked for him. I’d never thought of myself being a chest hair girl before, but I realized for Saint, I just might become one.

“You can wear one of my shirts,” he suggested. “At least to sleep in. I tried that long-sleeved one on while you were in the shower, and it’s actually not half bad.”

I licked my lips, because that was actually a really good idea.

Spotting the long-sleeved shirt he’d spoken about, I picked it up and threw it over my shoulder.

Then I went to my box and started to go through it for some underwear.

Grabbing the first pair I saw, I scrunched them up in my hand and walked back to the bathroom where I quickly dressed behind the sheet.

All the while, I felt completely exposed.

That, and I felt like his eyes were on me.

But I still didn’t think he could see anything.

Maybe he was just looking?

I didn’t know.

But by the time I was done and walking back out of the ‘bathroom’ it was with my cheeks so hot that they felt like they were on fire.

And only once I’d turned the light out and headed toward the bed did I realize that I was going to have to sleep next to him all night.

Logically, I’d known that we were going to have to.

Also, logically, I knew that likely he didn’t have any feelings for me whatsoever. Not like I had for him.

Which meant that sleeping next to him should be doable.

It was a big bed. We wouldn’t have any problems at all.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

Moving to where I knew the bed to be since all the lights were out, I held my hands out in front of me, stopping once I felt the upright post of the bed.

I shifted my hands lower and started to feel the bed so that I could climb into it.