He has rings through his nipples, and apparently it doesn’t hurt when he tugs on them as I observed the day before yesterday.
Just as I’d observed his very clear, very long, and very hard erection when he stood up from the couch.
Ugh.
Why me?
I have no clue if he had the same… um… affliction this morning as I refused to look at him when I heard him stirring on the couch. I’d been up for a good three hours, had already showered, walked Sirius, and fed us by the time he woke up. Even though he didn’t give me the same courtesy last night, I made sure I was very quiet this morning as I moved around the bus. Although, he probably didn’t need it. I’m pretty sure he was passed out and not just sleeping.
The bathroom door opens. I raise my head up quickly from the desk and put my hands on the laptop, blindly typing on what’s nothing more than a search engine I’d opened so I would look productive.
“Am I going to get the silent treatment all day?” I hear Evan say from the doorway and I allow my gaze to slide over to him.
And merciful Jesus… Evan with damp skin and a towel wrapped around his hips, so low I see that “V” of muscle pointing downward, should be outlawed. It’s making me feel muddled, and I can’t continue struggling against this. It’s just not fair.
“It’s the silent treatment then,” he concludes as he rubs his fingers through his wet hair, and making said conclusion because I still haven’t said anything. “Apparently, you’re still pissed about last night.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I was just focused on my work.”
Evan leans his body to the right and looks at my laptop screen. My cheeks flush red as he smirks, because all he sees is a search field with a garbled mess of letters that I had frantically typed when the bathroom door opened.
“Well, carry on then,” he says with a slight bow and a sarcastic tone before heading back into the bedroom. It’s where Evan’s clothes are stored and where he’s thankfully been changing, so I’m not exposed to any more of his nakedness than necessary.
Before the bedroom door closes behind him, my cell phone rings. A quick glance down shows it’s my dad calling.
I answer with a forced smile. “Hey, Dad. How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says cheerfully. “But more importantly, how are you?”
My eyes cut to the bedroom door and I sigh, “I’m fine. Busy.”
“You don’t sound fine,” he observes.
Another sigh. “It’s just a little hard getting used to living on a bus and sharing such a small space.”
With a small chuckle, my dad teases me. “You mean sharing such a small space with a famous and good-looking rocker.”
Yeah, something like that.
I change the subject though. “Did you get the email I sent last night?”
“I did,” he says, and his tone changes to business. I’d sent him my proposed response to the copyright lawsuit and wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything. “It looks really good. I made some minor changes, and I’m sending back to you as soon as we hang up.”
“So I’m okay to file it?” I ask, just to be sure. I’d done my research, felt confident in the law, and I knew my legal writing skills were sharp. But still… I’m in foreign territory and my confidence isn’t at its best.
“You are,” he says confidently, and I can feel my shoulders straighten slightly from the praise. “Look over the changes I made, and then send it back to me. We’ll get it filed from this end so you don’t have to try to mail it while you’re on the road.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” I say, for the first time actually feeling like I can do good work for Evan.
The bedroom door opens and Evan walks out wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. They hang low the way the towel did, that “V” practically pulsing like a neon light. I refuse to look down, so I cut my eyes quickly back to my laptop.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell my dad and then tack on, “I love you. Talk soon.”
“Love you too, kiddo,” he says, all dad-like, and we disconnect.
“Secret lover?” Evan asks as he heads to the small kitchen right in front of my desk to make some coffee.
“Pardon?” I ask, shocked over the word “lover” coming out of his mouth. He said it with a low, husky tone just laced with thick innuendo.
Evan nods to my cell phone still clutched in my hand. “Was that your lover on the phone?”
Again, my face turns hot, like it seems to do almost every time Evan talks to me, and part of me thinks he does this on purpose. In fact, I’m pretty sure he does it on purpose, and that’s not acceptable.
So I try to turn the tables on him, completely ignoring his question to me. “I’m kind of waiting on you to apologize for last night, to assure me it won’t happen again.”
Evan pushes a K-cup into the Keurig, shuts the top, and hits the brew button before turning to me. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize, you can keep waiting.”