I tried to pretend nothing had happened.
Absolutely nothing.
No towel incident. No "big enough" comment. No mental images that I now couldn't scrub from my brain no matter how many times I blinked.
I sat at the kitchen table, determined to focus on my coffee. The mug was warm in my hands, my blanket wrapped around me like a safety net. If I didn't look at Claude, maybe I could calm down.
Unfortunately, Claude was Claude.
He strolled into the kitchen — shirtless again, but now with a pair of soft grey lounge pants that hung way too low on his hips. The thin fabric didn't hide much. In fact, it didn't hide anything if you knew where to look. And I did. Against my will. My stupid eyes just… gravitated.
My brain screamed, Stop staring. Stop staring.
My eyes ignored it completely.
