Page 52 of The Goat in the Bedroom
Three minutes later, I was settled into the most luxurious bath of my life, my headphones in and music turned up loud enough to drown out any thoughts of tub theft. The hot water was already working magic on my sore muscles and bruises, and I was singing along to my favorite Kelsey Best playlist.
In the middle of belting out the poppiest of pop songs, I did a mermaid bathtub twirl and caught a glance at the bathroom door... open.
And Gryff, leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded, biceps bulging, watching me with a grin on his face.
I screeched and sank down into the tub so fast I nearly sloshed all the water and bubbles out. I needed those to cover my very naked, wet body.
Gryff only smiled wider. He was standing there wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, clearly getting ready for his own shower. Rays of sunshine from the row of tiny windows across the top of the room highlighted his chest and shoulders, like angels were about to sing songs to his muscles. And for a second I completely forgot how to form words.
“I—“ I yanked my headphones out, my ears burning hot. “You're supposed to be at practice.”
“I was. Now I'm home.” His eyes were doing this thing where I was sure he had x-ray vision and was trying to see right through the bubbles covering up my girlie bits. “Why are you in my bathroom?”
“Your tub has jets,” I said weakly, gesturing at the fancy controls. “Mine's just a shower. I have this massive bruise and I thought maybe?—“
“Is it bad?” His expression immediately shifted from humorous come-hither to concern. “Are you okay? Do we need to get you to the doctor?”
Aww, I loved this caretaker, protective side of him. So adorable. “It's fine. I've definitely had worse.” I shifted slightly, trying to show him the damage while keeping everything important underwater. “It's pretty spectacular, actually. Want to see?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I realized what I'd just offered. And apparently so did he, because his eyes went wide and something very interesting happened to the front of his towel. Something...massive.
Oh.
OH.
Was that…? Did he just…?
“I don't think that's—“ he started, his voice rougher than usual. “I mean, I should probably?—“
But he wasn't moving. He was just standing there, staring at me in his bathtub, and the terry cloth tent situation was becoming increasingly obvious.
“Gryff?” I said softly.
“Yeah?”
“You're, um.” I gestured vaguely in the direction of his towel.
He glanced down, and he raised one eyebrow. Like he was silently giving his dick a stern talking to in his head. “Shit. Sorry. I should—“ He backed toward the door, one hand clutching his towel. “I'll just give you some privacy to finish.”
He paused in the doorway, and for a second something passed between us that felt charged with possibility. Then he cleared his throat and looked away.
“Take your time.” He moved to leave, then turned back. “Is the bruise really that bad?”
“Want photographic evidence?”
His towel tent got... tentier. “I'll take your word for it.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the suddenly too quiet bathroom. I sank deeper into the water, my mind racing around like a teeny tiny speedboat.
That had definitely been an immediate physical reaction to seeing me naked in his bathtub. There was no way to misinterpret the tent physics.
Then there was the way he looked at me. The way his eyes had lingered before he remembered to look away. The way his voice had gone rough when he'd asked if I was hurt.
Holy shit.
All of that had nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with... nope, no. Not going there. Gryff and I were friends.
Just.
