Watching Ember by J B Reding

Author:J B Reding [Reding, J B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

13. Teddy Bear

I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body, another in my hair. I leave the bathroom and decide to check out the closet. I have a feeling I'm going to be staying here longer than I originally thought. Might as well unpack.

Liz is more of the clothes girl. After all, she graduated with a degree in fashion… something, while I majored in English. But I can admire a good closet when I see one. I drag my suitcase over and walk inside… to find it almost filled.

What the fuck?

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this.

I know without even looking that everything is in my size.

There's an island in the middle with panties and bras on display as if we’re at Victoria's Secret. My guilty pleasure, I’ll admit. Who doesn't like pretty underwear?

The closet is organized to a T, which I love. Each section specific to the type of clothing: workout, casual, formal, semi-formal. There's even a section for nighties.

As if.

I’ll stick to my T-shirts.

I'm not surprised to see that pretty much everything in here is something I’d pick out. So, either he's a super stalker or he had help.

I quickly slip into a pair of blue lace panties and a bralett before grabbing a pair of soft yoga pants from the shelf and a T-shirt from my suitcase. You can’t give up comfy worn-in T-shirts.

After brushing out my hair, I leisurely make my way to the kitchen, taking my time to peak into the other rooms on this floor. Obviously, I go straight for Nixon's across the hall. It’s surprisingly not locked. The room is clean but lived in as if he stays here more often than the mansion. Yet another question to add to the growing list. I hope I can keep track of all of them.

He has a big king, like an abnormal size, I think it's called a California king. Anyway, it’s ridiculously big and unnecessary. Makes me wonder why he needs such a big bed.

I shake my head at myself and close the door.

The other two rooms are just basic guest rooms. Generic. Nothing exciting. No red room of pain or whatever.

I practically glide down the stairs. I'm not sure why I'm in such a good mood after the shit show that was last night. Maybe it's because I feel like, for once, I'm actually getting somewhere with Nixon.

I round the corner to the kitchen and come to an abrupt stop at the sight of Nixon standing at the stove shirtless.

God, he's fucking hot.

I don’t know what it is about a man cooking you breakfast, but damn does it get my lady parts raring to go. That archangel tattoo just adding to it. It begs to be explored closely.

Very closely.

He turns around before I can ogle his ass in those sweats. Damn shame, too. An ass like his deserves attention.

“Morning.” He smirks as if he knows exactly what I was doing.

“Good morning.” I shrug, uncaring I got caught.

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