Page 43 of Late to Love

We step into the stream, and I grab the bar of soap before she can, using it as another opportunity to run my hands over her luscious curves. She rinses and takes the soap from me, lathering me up the same as I did to her: with relish, and not missing a single inch.

“My stomach growled again,” she giggles as we dry off.

“Seems you’ve worked up an appetite.” I grin at her.

Her own smile broadens in response.

“Put on one of my shirts,” I tell her, opening the bathroom door and moving across the wide-open space once again.

“That’s not necessary,” she protests behind me.

I turn back to her. “It wasn’t an offer, Darcy. It was a command.”

She laughs. “You’re funny.”

I grunt, ignoring the comment and deciding she’ll understand I’m serious soon enough. Grabbing her clothes before she has time to get into the room, I sweep them into a drawer and hold out a T-shirt as she walks in.

“Where are my clothes?”

“I told you that you’re wearing one of my shirts.”

“But—my panties…”

“Are unnecessary.”

“And bra?”

“Definitelynot needed.” I pause. “Is that even comfortable?”

“What, the sports bra?” she clarifies.

I nod.

She snorts. “Of course not. But that’s the breaks,” she says and shrugs.

An irrational anger rises in me. The desire to take manufacturers to task and force them to make it better. She shouldn’t ever be uncomfortable.

“Anway, this seems unfair,” she continues. “Me only in a shirt and you in, what, a full set of clothes? Where’smyjoy, Mr. Hall?”

I pull on a pair of boxers and hold my arms out. “Fair?”

She crosses her arms, looking absolutely delectable as she stands before me, still naked, tits on full display as she scowls at me. “I’d rather you be in briefs. Got any tighty whities in there?”

I smirk. She probably thinks I don’t own them. But I’m going to go one better. “Fine.” I shuck the boxers off and extract a pair of leopard-print briefs, then pull them on to her absolute delight. Letting the elastic snap against my waist, I strike a pose for her. “Is this joyful enough, Darcy?”

She covers her mouth and laughs. “It is, without a doubt, the most spectacular sight I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“Enjoy it, then. But no bacon for you.”

Her pretty lips open in surprise. “There’s bacon?”

“Therewasbacon,” I correct. “No way am I going to cook it like this.”

If I thought she was cute before, then the pout she gives me now might be the thing that undoes me. “Come on,” she wheedles.

I pop a smack on her bare ass as I walk past. “No.”

She brews the coffee while I make us scrambled egg and avocado breakfast tacos, and she shivers as she sits on the wooden chair at the small table set just off the kitchen.

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