Chapter 6-Tank
Okay, so I might’ve fucked up a little with that whole shirtless turkey brining situation.
I thought I was just teasing Dani a bit.
Being cheeky. Stirring the pot.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—is hotter than watching a woman look at you like she wants to climb you like a tree and forget her name doing it.
That’s what her eyes were saying.
Emerald green, wide and startled, locking on my chest like it held the answers to the universe.
She licked her lips.
Swallowed hard.
Fumbled a measuring cup.
It was the best moment of my life.
And the most painful.
'Cause I couldn’t do jack shit about it.
Not yet.
See, I’ve got a soft spot for Daniela McNally.
A real big one.
And yeah, alright, I’ve got a hard spot for her too—but unlike the emotional mess in my chest, I do know what to do with that.
If she’d let me.
But she won’t. Not yet.
She’s skittish.
Still mad.
Maybe even heartbroken, and I don’t know why.
All I know is something about her draws me in like gravity.
And I don’t wanna escape.
So tonight, I play it cool.
I eat my half of the frozen pizza we’re sharing like a goddamn gentleman.
I let her rattle off her little speech—again—with her lists and her boundaries and her nervous hands flapping around like she’s the goddamn rules committee for cohabitating with large shirtless rugby players.
No flirting.
No touching.
No kissing.
And absolutely no reminiscing about that night.
She even says the words pillow wall.
Pillow. Wall.
Christ on a cracker.
I nod through all of it, chewing my pizza like I’m not picturing her bent over the counter with that little pouty mouth spitting out rules while I fuck her in long, hard, deep strokes.
Focus.
Be the good guy.
Be respectful.
Be strategic.
And then?
When I’m pondering whether it is possible to actually die from blue balls.
Well, then she stands up, putting her sweet ass directly in my line of vision.
“I’m gonna take a shower before bed,” she announces, and disappears down the hall.
Which is when I decide I’ve had enough.
If she wants boundaries? She’ll get them.
With a side of Tank.
I walk into the bedroom—which is literally thirty feet from the eat-in kitchen. This cabin has no actual rooms except for the bathroom. It is one large, luxurious open floor plan.
So, yeah, back to the one bed thing.
I stand there, just looking at it. And I wait until I hear her coming back down the hall.
Then, at just the right moment, I peel off my shirt, and as she rounds the corner, I drop my pants.
Right there.
Boxer briefs, too.
I mean, I take off everything.
I’m not wearing a single stitch as she straightens her head, dropping the towel she’d been using on her hair to the wood floor, and blinks, like she’s just stepped on a live grenade.
“WHAT are you doing?” she shrieks.
I cant my head, then I stretch out on the bed like a very relaxed jungle cat, arms behind my head, ankles crossed, not even trying to hide anything.
“Gettin’ ready for bed. What’s it look like?”
Her eyes bug out. “But—but you have nothing on!”
I lift one brow.
“I sleep in the nude, Sweetheart. Surely an adult like you—who is very professional—won’t be affected by naked old me, will ya?”
Her mouth flaps like a fish out of water.
And God help me, I have never been harder in my life.
“Tank,” she hisses, eyes darting everywhere but me, “you can’t just—just—dangle your bits in a shared sleeping space!”
“Didn’t you say no touching?” I grin. “No flirting? Well, I’m not doing either. I’m on my side of the bed. Just gettin’ ready for some shuteye.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m also incredibly comfortable.”
“Really? Comfortable with that?” She nods at my hard as nails cock, and I swear to God, the thing waves at her.
“Well, I reckon I’m used to it when I’m around ya,” I murmur.
She narrows her eyes and slams a pillow down the middle of the bed like a hostage negotiator.
“If you so much as twitch in my direction—”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout!”
“Was too. I was a Cub Scout once,” I mutter.
She climbs into bed in sweatpants and the most aggressively oversized hoodie I’ve ever seen.
It’s like armor.
Or a chastity spell.
She yanks the covers over herself, back to me, muttering curses under her breath.
And I just lie there, grinning at the ceiling like a man who knows damn well that pillow walls don’t last forever.