Page 47 of Fish out of Water
But now that I had, it was impossible not to kick myself a little. It could have been my lips on her, my mouth working over her skin.
“Grant.” The sharpness in her voice snapped my eyes away from where they were locked onto her ass.
Julia was looking my way over one shoulder. “I asked if you thought we should go check on Mr. Frazier’s apartment.”
“Oh.” I scrubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah. I was planning to.”
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
Sure she would.
I went back to my email, trying to force my mind to focus on something besides her.
Something besides the problems her presence was causing.
The bathroom door clicked closed and the shower started.
Ten minutes my ass.
Four minutes later the shower shut off and the door opened.
I knew I shouldn’t look.
It was a bad idea.
But damned if I could help myself.
She stepped out of the bathroom in the tiniest towel that still possessed enough acreage to cover the high spots. Her long dark hair was wet and slicked away from her face, the tiny drops falling from it sliding down the swell of breast peeking out the top of the towel.
My mouth went dry, like it was suddenly in need of any moisture I could lick from her still-damp body.
“Something wrong, Grant?”
I shoved my eyes to the computer screen in front of me. “You’re running out of time.”
I needed to get away from her. I thought I was strong enough to stay here.
Strong enough to take her on and win.
But I was seriously questioning the accuracy of that belief.
Wondering if deep down I would always be that guy. The one who was good enough to laugh with.
Good enough to sleep with.
But not good enough to keep.
“Let’s go.” Julia strode into the room in a pair of teeny shorts and a crop top, her wet hair still dripping against her skin. No makeup. No jewelry.
She looked fresh and bright and terrifying.
“Fine.” I grabbed the keys to Vito’s place. Maybe I’d have to clean his place myself so I could stay there. I’d rather face down the men who tore it up than Julia any day of the week.
Julia stayed close as we headed to Vito’s building, skipping my car in favor of walking. It wasn’t a bad trek, especially this early in the morning.
As Vito’s door came into sight it became clear I might get my wish.
The property manager was there, barking orders at the men milling around.
