Chapter 2

Ash decides he’d rather stay in, so I start working on dinner. I’m making his favorite—my mom’s lasagna.

“I’m gonna go shower. Public transport just makes you feel all grimy,” he says, uncorking a bottle of red wine. “Don’t drink that until I get out! It’s gotta breathe.”

“Yes, sir!” I snap him a salute before turning back to the meat cooking on the stove.

“Mmmm. I could get used to that kind of obedience from you.”

As he walks past, he smacks my ass with the towel in his hand.

“Asshole!” I shout after his laughing form as he disappears into Kora’s room.

Over the next fifteen minutes, while I hear the water running in the shower, I brown the meat, make the sauce, and layer the lasagna in the dish. I’ve just slid it into the oven when I hear Ashton call my name.

“What?” I yell, setting the timer on my phone.

I hear a muffled response—something about owls?

“What the fuck are you talking about owls for?” I mutter, walking toward the bathroom. The shower’s still running, so he obviously can’t hear me either.

I reach for the doorknob just as he pulls the door open.

And suddenly, I’m face to face with a mocha-skinned god.

Fucking Adonis wishes he looked this good.

Chiseled abs. Muscled arms. Defined thighs.

And his impressive length—dripping with water and completely, gloriously, uncovered.

My brain short-circuits. I gape for a second before spinning around and slapping my hands over my eyes. Not that it’ll help. That image is seared into my mind for life—and will definitely feature in every fantasy I have from now until the end of time.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek, my voice jumping several octaves. Dogs in Jersey can probably hear me.

“You couldn’t hear me! I was trying to make it so you could!”

He starts off defensive, but it quickly turns into a full-out belly laugh.

I stay turned away, still covering my eyes. I will never be able to look him in the eye again.

“I don’t know what’s so funny about this!” I say, indignant but still flustered. If I looked at him right now, I don’t trust myself not to launch myself at his body.

“Your reaction,” he manages between laughs. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

“Asshole, I wasn’t even in elementary school the last time I saw you naked! Things have—”

I flail my arms, searching for a word. “—changed.”

He laughs even harder. My face is probably redder than a fire hydrant.

“What the hell did you want?” I snap, needing this conversation to end immediately.

“A towel. I forgot to grab one before I got in.”

Oh.

Not an owl.

A towel.

Dumbass.

“In the linen closet next to the bathroom,” I grumble, turning to walk away. I need wine. Immediately.

“Can you grab it for me?” he calls. “I don’t want to drip any more water on the floor.”

His voice is way too reasonable for someone who’s about to make me turn around and face his delectably naked self again.

I sigh loudly and return, one hand shielding my line of sight as I open the closet and grab the fluffiest, pinkest towel I can find—one of Kora’s.

Pure spite.

I turn away, holding the towel behind my back. As much as I’ve fantasized about this exact scenario, the fact that he seems so unaffected makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.

“I can’t reach the towel from there, Sam. You’re gonna have to come closer.”

Something in his voice makes my breath hitch.

I’m so screwed.

I take a slow step forward, still looking away.

His hand closes around my arm, and he pulls me in. He turns my face gently toward his, and when I open my eyes, I’m caught in those caramel-colored ones—warm, teasing, unreadable.

He takes the towel from my hand and slowly wraps it around himself.

“You know,” he murmurs, “if you wanted to repay the peep show, I’d be happy to keep the water running. Help you wash all those hard-to-reach spots.”

And with that, he turns and disappears back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I’m left standing there—panties soaked, breath ragged, face burning.

I hear his low chuckle through the door, and it snaps me out of my stupor.

Oh, so that’s how he wants to play.

Alright, Ashton James.

You have no idea what you’ve just started.