Co-Ed(4)

His toothy grin would be gorgeous if he wasn’t so annoying. “Loads, but I don’t talk much when I’m with my friends.”

“Ah, too busy using your tongue?”

“Waste it on words or on a woman? Let me think about it.”

“Gross.” I stood and stretched my arms over my head. “You know, you could be one of those Pleasure Ponies.”

“Not into sharing,” he said quickly. “And all three of them are really good at it. I’m serious. Far away, Shawn. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh?”

His smile deepened. “But start clipping your toenails out in the open, and I’ll probably zip tie you to a rolling chair and send you sailing toward their door.”

“Petty threat.” I grabbed my towel and shower caddy, gave him a two-fingered wave, and slipped my flip-flops on. I had exactly twenty minutes to get ready, and I couldn’t stop yawning.

The lights were already on when I walked into the bathroom. At least this floor was co-ed; they just meant for girls to be in a suite together, not one shared with four guys, but whatever. Again, being stuck with Slater, I wasn’t going to complain.

Plus, I had to admit, with a shrug, whatever he was trying to dump on my face smelled really good. My flip-flops squeaked against the tile floor. One shower was running, but the other ten were open. I rounded the corner and turned on my Spotify playlist to wake me up. Chainsmokers started blaring as I grabbed my blue towel, placed it on the hook near the curtain, and adjusted the water to searing hot.

I was just pulling my sports bra over my head when the water in the shower a few stalls down turned off.

I glanced to my left. Not that I wanted to see a naked girl; it was just instinct to check.

What I saw was not boob.

Or soft.

Or anything feminine whatsoever.

It was one of the Ponies.

I quickly looked away as if I’d just been caught doing something wrong, but I knew he saw me, knew I hadn’t been quick enough.

Perfect dilemma.

Did I keep stripping and just jump into the shower? Or wait for him to leave? But if I waited, I would look nervous, or maybe like I was trying to talk to him.

My upper lip was starting to sweat as steam billowed out of the shower in front of me.

With jerky movements, I pulled off my shorts then my underwear and dove into the shower, ready to wrap the curtain around my naked body if need be.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing on my part, I let out a rough exhale and was about to reach for my caddy when a masculine hand shot out from the curtain and handed me my lavender body wash.

“Uh, thanks, man.” I jerked it away from him, only to have that stupid attractive hand reappear and hand me my loofah. “Thanks… again.”

“No problem.”

My body swayed, the universe tilted, and I felt my thighs quiver. This was bad. So bad. It was just my overactive imagination. His voice didn’t really sound like warm velvet with a hint of just enough rasp to make me want to lean in and see if it felt funny against my neck.

Nope.

Not at all.

I didn’t realize how vigorously I was scrubbing until the skin on my arms started tingling, and when I glanced at it, saw it turning red.

I tried calming down, mentally going to a different place, just as the shower curtain was pulled aside and, let’s just call him Pony Number One, leaned against the wall, towel wrapped low on his hips and arms crossed.

He didn’t once look at my breasts.

No, his focus was only on my face, which actually made it more uncomfortable. I wanted a reason to slap him, to shove him away, to tell him he was being a creeper.

Instead, he was looking into my eyes with such intensity I forgot to breathe and started choking a bit before I hissed, “Did you need something?”

“No,” he said politely. “But thanks for asking.”

The shower curtain was still open, and my teeth started to chatter.

Without looking away from my eyes, his hand reached for the handle, and the water grew hotter.

“Uh, thanks,” I mumbled.

What game was he playing?

Why hadn’t Slater told me more? Were there specific rules I had to follow? Was this guy expecting me to pay him for making my water hot and handing me body wash?

Oh, no!

He was, wasn’t he?

That’s what they did!

They pleased women!

“I don’t have cash on me,” I blurted in the least sexy voice you could possibly imagine all breathy and squeaky like I’d just swallowed my own body wash.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, this may be the best day of my life.”

God, his voice was beautiful. Like the string section of a symphony orchestra, smooth and mellow. I wanted to ask him to say something else. Already, I was leaning in without even realizing it. I jerked back and almost collided with the tile behind me.

“Oh?” I was already knee-deep in my own embarrassment. Why not take the plunge?

He moved closer, until drops of moisture hit his perfect jawline. The steam billowed around both of our heads, and I could smell the Irish Spring he must have just slathered all over that perfect body. Instantly, I wanted to run to the store and buy a case and open every wrapper until my room filled with his scent.

“You don’t need to tip me for being a gentleman.” He grinned wider, and my tongue turned to sandpaper. “Though, out of curiosity, what do you think a nice rubdown would get me, hmm?”