Page 92 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

There was a glob of toothpaste in the sink—from one of the kiddos if the stepping stool still placed in front of it was any indication. I stared at it,so I wouldn’t ogle George through the glass. It took him a second to reply to my question, another indicator that he was still feeling wrong-footed. I could hear him rustling around, probably checking the showers for bugs. Or pulling his soaked shoes off. Maybe both.

“I’ve showered without your help for thirty-three years,” Georgie sniped. Good. If he was getting snippy it meant he was returning to normal. “I think I can manage with a few little burns on my fingers.”

“Holler if you change your mind,” I replied, not taking the bait. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“You just want to see me naked,” George muttered under his breath, quiet enough he probably didn’t think I’d heard him. But I had.

“Ha, ha, touché.” This time, I did look at him. I was grinning as I found his reflection in the mirror. Just as I’d suspected, he was inspecting another shower stall, working his way down the line so he could pick the best one. “I’m serious, though. If you decide you need?—”

“I don’t need help,” George rebuffed for a second time. And then, like a disgruntled rabbit, he stomped his cute foot and marched into the stall he’d picked fully clothed. He shut the door harder than was necessary—which I only knew was an accident because he immediately called out a shy apology, totally at odds with the way he’d stormed off.

We were lucky it was a hot day in the summer, or a dip in the creek could’ve been a lot more dangerous for the both of us than it had been. Hypothermia could be deadly for someone as lean as George. I was pretty sure there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him—not that I was one to speak, given the intensity I trained in the gym and how anal I was about my diet most days.

My physique was born from hard work, mental illness, and deep insecurity.

George’s appeared to be genetic.

He looked like his sister, Lacey. They were both tall and lean like their father, whereas Joe and their oldest sister, the one I’d only seen pictures of but never met, resembled their mother’s natural width.

George tossed his clothes with a wetplopover the shower door. A flare of heat curled low in my belly at the thought that he was naked and only a few feet away. A single door without a lock separated me from all that damp, lovely skin. My fingers itched with the urge to tear it open, press George into the chilly tile, and distract him the best way I knew how.

Blowing out a breath, I glared down at my dick, willing it to stop being such a horny bastard for once. It went against everything I was to admit this, but…I could honestly say the last thing I wanted to do was fuck Georgie right now.

I know, I know.

Shocking.

I just…I knew he needed comfort—and a friend. And I couldn’t really do or be either of those things if my dick was shoved so far up his ass I could feel it in his stomach.

Ugh.Man.

I really needed to stop thinking about that or I was going to get in trouble.

Now that George was taken care of, it was time for me to worry about myself. Which was difficult when my dick was hard. As I entered the stall right next to George—because I was a masochist, apparently—I swear I could hear the soapy swish of his hands as he cleaned himself.

Stop it, stop it.

I turned the water to ice cold in the hopes it would make my dick go down. My clothes were already drenched, why should I care if they got even more wet? I bit back a gasp as the water hit. The warmth felt good on my chilly body. I spent a solid thirty seconds calling myself an idiot in my head while I struggled to wrangle my sopping shirt off.

Even considering my idiotic move to drench myself again, I managed to shower faster than George did. I had no doubt it was because he was as meticulous with his personal hygiene as he seemed to be with everything else. Not that I wasn’t—because I was.

June made fun of me constantly for that. As if it was a bad thing, when it was the opposite.

“Checking for leeches?” I teased, a towel slung low around my hips. I’d already dried off, so now I just needed to retrieve my new clothes so I could change. It would’ve been convenient if there was a covered shelf inside the stall or something for them, but alas, despite being nice, the bathroom was notthatfancy.

George exited his stall a second later, and I paused, the bundle of clothes I’d just retrieved tucked in one arm, abs tightening at the sight of all that creamy damp skin. He had a cute belly button. Christ. And his hip bones—there was a freckle on one that begged to be bitten. It’d look so pretty framed by teeth marks. Flat belly, almost concave, prominent ribs, and perky pink nipples?—

I licked my lips, suddenly parched.

My cock perked up. It tented the front of the towel, pointing right at George.

“Put that thing away,” George sighed.

“I can’t help it.” I laughed, embarrassed. When I glanced up at George’s face, he was smiling. Ah. So not all that offended then. In fact…he even looked, dare I say, flattered?

“I need to…” George made a gesture to his pile of clothes—that I’d been blocking.

“Sorry.” Like an idiot, I jumped out of the way.

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