Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(22)

An hour later, the security system is all set and the technician is gone. I grab my rolling suitcase from my room and stop in the living room where Ana is sitting on the floor with Hobbes.

“Hey. I’m going to head out. Otherwise, I’ll be late and catch shit from the coach.”

She looks up, her hand still lazily rubbing Hobbes’s exposed belly. “Okay. Well, have a safe flight, and I hope you score a lot of goals.”

I smile at her cuteness. “Thanks, I’ll try my best. You remember the security code?”

She nods. “Yep, I’ve got it.”

I grab the handle to my rolling bag, then pause when Ana rises to her feet and wraps her arms around me in an unexpected hug. Momentarily stunned—and totally unused to warm female affection—I stand there like a statue until she steps back, releasing me.

“Sorry,” she says with a grin.

“Stay safe, okay?”

She nods, and with a slow exhale, I head to the door.

I make it down the elevator and into the parking garage when it hits me. I forgot my toiletry kit. I have no other choice but to go right back to my condo. Sighing, I place my bag in the car and make the trek back upstairs.

Unlocking the front door, I don’t spot Ana on the floor with Hobbes anymore. He lifts his head and blinks at me.

As I head down the hall, I don’t see any sign of her, so I call out, “Hey, I’m back. I just need to grab something.”

No response.

That’s weird. But, whatever, I really do need to get on the road.

I step into my bedroom and open the door to the adjoining master bath. And then my heart fucking stops.

Because standing in the center of my bathroom, completely naked and bent over to adjust the faucet, is Ana.

Creamy pale skin.

Full breasts.

The graceful curve of her lower back leading to a nicely rounded ass.

Oh my fuck.

As soon as she spins to face me, I slam my eyes shut, and Ana lets out a scream.

“I’m sorry.” I hold up both hands, my eyes still firmly closed. “So fucking sorry.”

I hear a whoosh of fabric as I assume Ana grabs a towel from the towel bar and secures it around herself.

“I’m good now,” she says, her voice slightly panicked.

Opening my eyes, I notice the tub is filled with bubbles and steamy water, and I lower my hands to my sides. “I forgot my toiletry bag. I didn’t know you were in here.”

Her gaze darts from mine to the counter. She grabs the gray felt bag I left behind and shoves it at me.

“I’m sorry, Ana,” I say firmly, hoping she knows I mean those words.

She nods and releases a shaky exhale. “It’s okay.”

And then I do what any man would do.

I turn and flee like a fucking coward.





7




* * *





A Sliver of Hope





Ana



My heart is still hammering away long after Grant closes the bathroom door.

I can’t help but replay the mortifying moment over and over again in my head. Me, unsuspecting, leaning over the tub to test the water. Grant, distracted, beelining from the front door to his bathroom, only to find a butt-naked lady screaming bloody murder at him like he’s some perverted intruder.

Did he know I was getting in the tub? Of course not. I’m just the house guest who’s been inconveniencing him for a couple of days now. Well, now he’s definitely thinking about that house guest, considering he just clearly saw her tits and ass ten minutes ago. Dear Lord.

I sit in the tub, stewing over it for so long that the water grows cold and my fingers get pruney.

It was an accident, Ana. You have to shake this off, or you can’t expect him to do the same. Besides, it’s only fair, after I saw him in his underwear that first night.

I perk up my ears, listening once more for any unfamiliar sounds, making sure that I really am the only one in this condo. Then, when I’m convinced the only sounds are those of an anxious Hobbes, his tiny feet pitter-pattering from the front door to the bathroom door and back again, I emerge from the water.

The air is cool, and my skin is covered with a fine layer of goose bumps, my nipples at attention. I’m cold, but my core is warm. There’s a pulsing deep in my center, a little voice I haven’t heard in a long time asking, Hey, what’s going on here? I ignore the voice, reaching for a towel to pat myself dry. If I listen to that little voice, I’ll end up getting back in the water to do something to myself that’s entirely indecent.

After I get dressed, I do a load of laundry and then make myself an early dinner. While I wait for my grilled cheese sandwich to cook, I have to admit it does give me a nice sense of satisfaction knowing the alarm system is set. Even if I do feel a little guilty that Grant installed it just for me—despite what he said.

I try to watch a movie, but I’m so distracted, I hardly absorb a word of it. Abandoning the movie halfway through, I head to the guest room. After folding my laundry, I slip into my pajamas and snuggle up in bed with Hobbes. I’m not sure how Grant feels about dogs on the furniture . . . that strikes me as something we should have talked about. But Hobbes is so at peace, curled up against my side, I don’t have the heart to push him off.

I pull out my phone, ignoring all the missed calls and texts from Jason, and pull up Grant’s contact. With deft fingers, I type out my message.