Page 46 of Broken

Callie appears wearing a T-shirt and soft jersey shorts. She is holding a bundle of clothes. My eyes narrow, wondering why she has men’s clothes, then she holds out the pants. They’re gray sweatpants with a pink flower over the pocket.

No fucking way.

“It’s all I have,” she lifts a brow. “They should fit, I like them baggy.”

Baggy. Right. I take them and hold them up. Baggy on her, maybe. I should leave.

“Come on, it will only take half an hour to dry them off.” She indicates the window. “It’s still coming down. Or you can call a cab, whatever.”

I am uncomfortable as fuck, and it is bad out there. Fuck it.

She should be careful what she wishes for.

Calli stands in front of me, holding out her clothes, staring wide-eyed as I pull my T-shirt over my head. Her eyes drop to my chest, lower down my torso. She stares at my belt line for a good ten seconds. Then she shakes herself and looks back at my face.

I’m soaked to the bone, goosebumps rising on my skin. Balling up my T-shirt, I let it drop to the floor beside my boots. Moving my hands over the button of my jeans, I lift a brow at her.

“Are you going to watch?”

She rubs her lips together, then turns around. I can’t help the dark laugh. She stands still as I unbutton my jeans and roll them down. It’s a good job she’s not watching because this is not fucking sexy at all. The jeans are sticking to me. I almost fall and have to prop myself on the wall.

My underwear is drenched too. “Do you have a towel?” I ask.

“Oh, of course. Yeah. Hang on.”

She walks away. I roll up the wet clothes and hold them in front of me. Calli comes hurrying around the corner and freezes when she sees me. She practically throws the towel at me. I catch it with one hand and hold out my clothes with the other.

“Okay, it shouldn’t take long to get these dried off.” She gathers my stuff, holding it away from her. When she looks up, I’m rubbing at my chest, the towel hanging down in front of me. She waits.

“What?”

“Underwear,” she says it like it isn’t affecting her. Her blush says otherwise.

“Right.”

This time I don’t tell her to turn away, using one hand to slide my boxer briefs down my legs. When I bend to pick them up, I hear her mutter something. I’m naked and she hasn’t turned away.

Reaching out, I hand them to her. Calli bites her lip as she takes them. I wrap the towel around my waist, securing it by tucking it in at my hip, but keeping hold of it. Just in case.

“I’ll be right back.”

After she leaves, I pick up the clothes she left me, eyeing them again. Drying off as best I can, I step into the sweatpants. They fit length wise. They’re snug around my thighs and my junk is not disguised. The flower sits to the left of my cock, bright pink and glaring, and will draw the eye.

Fuck, if anyone could see me right now. I tug the T-shirt on. That at least is big enough, and plain. I step further into the living room, drying off my hair.

The rain is still coming down in sheets. Standing by the window, rubbing at my head with the towel, I watch the few people who have braved staying out in the rain. If you told me a couple of hours ago I’d be standing in a gorgeous woman’s apartment, wearing her clothes…

I don’t even know how to finish that thought.

“I’ve never seen that flower so… blatant.”

“What?” I glance over my shoulder. Calli points to the back of the sweatpants. What the hell is she talking about? Twisting so I can see my ass, my mouth drops open. “What the fuck?”

Calli laughs. At the giant flower and ‘girl power’ slogan right over my ass.

Chapter Twelve

Calli

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