Naked Love(33)

I swallow back the pain and the fear and push open the door. With my back to him, I shrug. “It was a free class. Two hours. I had a crush on the instructor. He told me I was a natural at self-defense. He said I had good moves.”

Jake grunts a laugh. “I’m sure he did. Men tell women whatever it takes to get into their pants.”

When the sting of the truth starts to hurt, I step into the nasty stall, hating that the walls don’t go to the ground or block the sound of me peeing.

“I can’t see anything.”

He points the flashlight into the foot gap at the bottom of the wall.

“Thank you.” I almost choke on the words, but he walked me up the hill and now he’s holding a flashlight for me.

“What do you say?” I hold a squat to prevent from touching anything as I tinkle.

“You’re welcome.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not talking about the flashlight. What do you say to women to get into their pants?”

Again, no toilet paper. How did I forget to grab a few tissues? I shake and pull up my panties and pink silk night shorts. I open the door, feeling all kinds of disgusting.

No toilet paper.

No sink.

Who lives like this? Aren’t there laws that require a sink with a toilet? Maybe only flushable toilets.

Flushable toilets … best invention ever.

Jake stands from his squatted position where he held the flashlight for me.

“What?”

He shakes his head.

“Don’t shake your head. Why were you looking at me like that? Is it my hair?” I smooth both palms over my fragile locks. I need my hairdresser like a heart attack patient needs a heart surgeon.

Hairdresser STAT!

“What’s up with your hair?” He inspects my head with the light like I had done to his perfect feet, only I don’t think the grimace on his face has anything to do with my perfect hair. “Why are you messing with it all the time? Scratching your scalp all the damn time? If not lice, is it psoriasis? A yeast infection?”

“Jeez.” I shove the light away. “I told you not to mention my hair. Don’t talk about it, don’t look at it, and whatever you do don’t touch it.”

He brings the light back up to my head.

“Stop!” I try to shove him away again.

“Fair is fair. You were inspecting my feet for a really long time.”

I don’t need a mirror to know that all the blood has drained from my face. How the hell does he know that? “What?” I whisper.

Taking one step closer, he aims the flashlight between us so his flip-flop clad feet are illuminated. “When you were searching for the keys, you stopped to stare at my feet, and…” he smiles “…the rest of me.”

My jaw unhinges. “You are so full of yourself. I was not looking at any part of you, especially your ugly, stinky feet.” I cross my arms over my chest. “But if I had been looking at your fungus-infected feet, how would you have known since you were sleeping?”

“It’s hard to sleep when you keep telling me to wake up.”

A gasp catches in my throat. “You bastard! If you were awake, why didn’t you answer me?”

I hate his grin.

Stupid, stupid grin. I don’t care how white his smile happens to be, it’s a terrible grin.

I hate the way his eyes smile. Yep, smiling eyes. I bet it’s an early sign of something like … foot fungus or erectile dysfunction.

“As we speak, mosquitoes are buzzing around us, but I don’t acknowledge them. I’m aware of their pesky little buzzing, but I’m not going to let them ruin my trip or keep me from sleeping.”

“Oh … my … god … Are you comparing me to a bloodsucking insect?”

“If the overpriced shoe fits …” He’s grinning like …

Gah!

I don’t really know what his grin resembles. It’s mocking, flirty, devious, and incredibly infuriating because he only smiles like that when he’s poking fun at me.

“You didn’t answer my question.” I plant my hands on my hips.

He shines the flashlight in my face. “What question was that?”

I flinch, backing away from him and the smell of the shithole behind us. “What do you say to a woman to get into her pants?”

His lips purse. “I ask them if they want to smell my underwear.”

Before my mouth falls into yet another offended gasp, I grit my teeth and formulate … something.

What? I’m not sure. I have skills. I just need to use them to my benefit. Sadly my guy-skills involve a lot of flirting and … other bodily exchanges.

Forcing my jaw to relax, I plaster on my best smile—the one that gets me all kinds of things from men who have posed a bigger challenge than Mr. Kale Salad.

“I bet they do.” I bite my bottom lip, closing the distance between us. Running my fingernail down his defined chest, I trace some of his ink before teasing the waistband to his boxer briefs peeking above his low riding shorts. His abs tighten even more. “I bet they want to smell every inch of you.”

“Avery,” he warns in a gritty voice.

I slip my fingernail just under the waistband, giving it a teasing tug while shifting my gaze to meet his hooded eyes.

Shit … I swallow back the saliva pooling in my mouth. I’m falling apart in the middle of my one chance to take the lead—get the upper hand. I’m turning myself on as much as him. His cock is waking up, but dammit if I’m not feeling my own arousal tingling between my legs.