16. Colt
Chapter 16
Colt
After last night’s decision, there’s a truce between us.
Something’s shifted. The sharp edges are still there, but they’ve dulled. At least for now.
The bathroom door creaks open, steam rolling out.
Maverick steps into the room, towel slung low on his hips, hair dripping down the sides of his face.
Still half-wet and fully smug, like walking around half-naked is normal at seven in the morning.
“Used up all the towels, didn’t you?” I mutter from where I’m still half-asleep in bed, sore as hell and already irritated.
He smirks and tosses a damp one at my face.
It hits dead-on. Warm. Wet. Disgusting.
“Shoulda gotten your ass up earlier, Lawson.”
I rip the towel off, jaw tight. “Real fuckin’ considerate.”
He shrugs and starts toweling off his hair like nothing’s wrong in the world like he’s not standing there looking like that, all lean muscle and loose confidence, water sliding down his chest in rivulets that I definitely shouldn’t be noticing.
I drag my eyes away, mutter a curse, and grab the half-wet towel off my chest as I push out of bed.
His low chuckle trails behind me as I stalk to the bathroom, seething.
I slam the door harder than I need to.
And it still doesn’t drown out the image of him standing there in just that towel.