He had changed into sweatpants with no shirt, looking at me standing there in just my bra and panties, like a predator looking at it's prey.
I'd made a terrible mistake coming here.
Or maybe a perfect one.
The jealousy I'd wanted him to feel all night was about to eat us both alive.
He didn't move.
He just stood there with his sweatpants. The waistband barely holding on to the sharp V of muscle and his chest was bare, all muscle and smooth skin and the kind of body that made my mouth water without permission.
His breathing was controlled. Like he was holding himself back from doing something we'd both regret or something we'd both need so badly that it doesn't matter if we'll regret it.
His eyes slowly dragged down my body, taking in every inch of skin I was showing him.
The black
