Ruin me, Gently
Matt stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then nodded once.
“Noted,” he said flatly, and left the bathroom.
I stood there alone, wrapped in his towel, my heart still racing. After a minute, I forced myself to move, to dry off properly, to breathe.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I found something laid out on the bed. A white dress shirt—his, obviously—and nothing else. No pants, no underwear. Of course.
Matt was across the room by the windows, pulling on a pair of gray joggers. Shirtless. Water still glistening on his chest and abs, his hair damp and messy. He looked unfairly good, and I hated that I noticed.