Read Online Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) by Carrie Butler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carrie Butler
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the shower curtain open, and taken me in all of my soaking glory. No one would’ve ever known. I replayed the scenario several times in my mind, justifying it as a valid concern, but each time it became more and more like fantasy. I blamed the alcohol.
Even after I toweled off, the masculine scent of his body wash continued to follow me like a crisp, aromatic cloud; it was all I could do to keep from moaning each time I breathed it in. I blamed the alcohol for that, too—even though it’d mostly worn off. The only thing left was fatigue, and that wasn’t something I could wash away.
I took a deep breath and cast one last glance in the mirror. The white t-shirt he’d leant me hung shapelessly from my shoulders, but I didn’t mind. My bra hadn’t had a chance to dry yet, and I wasn’t about to hold a wet t-shirt contest in the middle of January. Or at all.
His sweatpants hung low on my hips and the bottoms were rolled in thick, overdone cuffs. I pulled a pair of socks up around my ankles and shook my head. Of all the times to look like a bum…
My hair was wet, and all of my makeup had washed off. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. Wallace was a reasonably attractive guy—and by reasonably attractive, I mean gorgeous in the most infuriating way possible. It was driving me crazy.
Crazy …
The word echoed in my mind as I gathered everything up. Maybe this was my opportunity to settle the madman rumors once and for all. Being partially responsible, wasn’t it my duty to set things straight? It was obvious they bothered him.
I’d just have to gauge his mood before I broached the subject. If he gave any sign of losing his cool, I’d run out. It wasn’t like I didn’t live in the same building. If push came to shove, I’d sprint downstairs and kick the naked people out of my room.
I shook my head and pushed the door open. “Back.”
Wallace was lying on his bed, reading a magazine with one knee bent and the other draped over the side. He’d changed into clean clothes while I was gone. Black athletic pants stretched the long length of his legs, and he’d donned a white t-shirt identical to my own. I suspected the coverage was for my benefit.
“Feel better?”
I nodded, fighting a grin at the casualness he’d adopted, now that we were behind closed doors. “Thanks.” I shifted the damp bundle in my arms. “So, where should I put these? I don’t want to get anything wet.”
He tossed the magazine aside and stood up. “You can just dump it all in the hamper. I’ll throw your clothes in with mine this week.”
“Oh, um…” I blanched at the thought of him doing my laundry. Really, it was a stupid thing to worry about. It wasn’t like I had delicates in there. Think, think. “Why don’t you give me a call when you’re going to do laundry?” I dropped the towel and clothes into the hamper. “I’ll meet you down there, and we can just trade then, if you don’t mind.”
“Call you?”
“I-If you want to,” I stammered. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’ll just…” I scanned the room and spotted a stack of bright green Post-It notes on his desk. Okay, enough with the docile act. I threw my coat on the floor, grabbed a pen, and jotted ten digits on the top square. “That’s my number, if you need it.”
He blinked for a moment, before snapping out of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s cool.”
“Cool,” I echoed, toying with the wet strands of hair that brushed my shoulders.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
I groaned, pressing my palms to my forehead.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” I shook my head. “That was the last thing I heard before I found myself on the floor, singing AC/DC to my cup.”
He bent at the refrigerator and produced a clear, plastic bottle. “Water it is, then.” With quick strides, he crossed the room and twisted the cap. “AC/DC, huh?”
“Thanks.” I felt myself blush again as I took the dented bottle. Must’ve been on sale.
Even after I toweled off, the masculine scent of his body wash continued to follow me like a crisp, aromatic cloud; it was all I could do to keep from moaning each time I breathed it in. I blamed the alcohol for that, too—even though it’d mostly worn off. The only thing left was fatigue, and that wasn’t something I could wash away.
I took a deep breath and cast one last glance in the mirror. The white t-shirt he’d leant me hung shapelessly from my shoulders, but I didn’t mind. My bra hadn’t had a chance to dry yet, and I wasn’t about to hold a wet t-shirt contest in the middle of January. Or at all.
His sweatpants hung low on my hips and the bottoms were rolled in thick, overdone cuffs. I pulled a pair of socks up around my ankles and shook my head. Of all the times to look like a bum…
My hair was wet, and all of my makeup had washed off. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. Wallace was a reasonably attractive guy—and by reasonably attractive, I mean gorgeous in the most infuriating way possible. It was driving me crazy.
Crazy …
The word echoed in my mind as I gathered everything up. Maybe this was my opportunity to settle the madman rumors once and for all. Being partially responsible, wasn’t it my duty to set things straight? It was obvious they bothered him.
I’d just have to gauge his mood before I broached the subject. If he gave any sign of losing his cool, I’d run out. It wasn’t like I didn’t live in the same building. If push came to shove, I’d sprint downstairs and kick the naked people out of my room.
I shook my head and pushed the door open. “Back.”
Wallace was lying on his bed, reading a magazine with one knee bent and the other draped over the side. He’d changed into clean clothes while I was gone. Black athletic pants stretched the long length of his legs, and he’d donned a white t-shirt identical to my own. I suspected the coverage was for my benefit.
“Feel better?”
I nodded, fighting a grin at the casualness he’d adopted, now that we were behind closed doors. “Thanks.” I shifted the damp bundle in my arms. “So, where should I put these? I don’t want to get anything wet.”
He tossed the magazine aside and stood up. “You can just dump it all in the hamper. I’ll throw your clothes in with mine this week.”
“Oh, um…” I blanched at the thought of him doing my laundry. Really, it was a stupid thing to worry about. It wasn’t like I had delicates in there. Think, think. “Why don’t you give me a call when you’re going to do laundry?” I dropped the towel and clothes into the hamper. “I’ll meet you down there, and we can just trade then, if you don’t mind.”
“Call you?”
“I-If you want to,” I stammered. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’ll just…” I scanned the room and spotted a stack of bright green Post-It notes on his desk. Okay, enough with the docile act. I threw my coat on the floor, grabbed a pen, and jotted ten digits on the top square. “That’s my number, if you need it.”
He blinked for a moment, before snapping out of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s cool.”
“Cool,” I echoed, toying with the wet strands of hair that brushed my shoulders.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
I groaned, pressing my palms to my forehead.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” I shook my head. “That was the last thing I heard before I found myself on the floor, singing AC/DC to my cup.”
He bent at the refrigerator and produced a clear, plastic bottle. “Water it is, then.” With quick strides, he crossed the room and twisted the cap. “AC/DC, huh?”
“Thanks.” I felt myself blush again as I took the dented bottle. Must’ve been on sale.
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