He had already taken off his jacket and shirt. His skin was still damp, catching the warm light from the lamp, and every muscle showed clearly, like he had been carved instead of built. His chest rose and fell slowly, relaxed, and his jeans hung low on his hips, darkened by the rain. I forgot what I was doing for a second. Forgot how to move.
He noticed me standing there and smiled, a little amused. He walked toward me, unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be. He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. I held out the clothes, my hands trembling just slightly.
I tried not to blush. I failed.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the clothes from me. He didn’t step back. Not even a little.
What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer now, like the stor
