Page 71 of Naughty & Nice
Pretending to not know she’s there, I spin around, barely covering myself with the fabric in my hand.
“Oh shit, sorry,” I say with a smirk.
She knows me too well and sees straight through it.
She’s busy rolling her eyes as hard as she can and pretending not to check me out when Hendrix finally gets with the program and spins around.
He sees Noelle first—obviously— but the second he sees her looking at me, his eyes turn my way.
“The fuck, Bro?” he barks, but his question is soon forgotten when Noelle glances at him and notices that he’s been enjoying his time at the window.
Glad I’m not the only one to rock a semi while listening to a man growling in my ear.
Fuck. I am never saying that out loud. Ever.
“What’s going on?” Noelle asks suspiciously.
“Hendrix has been enjoying his first audiobook. Haven’t you, man?”
Rix’s lips open and close as he debates whether he’s willing to confess or not.
“An audiobook?” Noelle asks, looking impressed.
“Uh…”
“What are you listening to?”
With her focus on Rix, I quickly pull my boxers on and watch them interact.
Hesitantly, Hendrix lifts my cell and shows Noelle.
“That’s what I’m reading,” she says, confusion laced through her tone.
“You inspired me yesterday,” I explain, helping Rix out. “And I thought I could inspire Rix too. It really is an interesting read.”
Noelle’s mouth opens to respond, but after a second or two, she clearly decides that she doesn’t have any words to offer.
“If you want to make breakfast, you’re going to need to put more clothes on,” she finally says, turning her eyes on me.
“We should play it through the Bluetooth speaker. That way we can all enjoy it,” I suggest.
Noelle’s lips purse with frustration. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she says before spinning on her heels and marching toward the kitchen.
“Clearly not an audiobook fan,” I mutter as I pull a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from my bag.
“You’re playing with fire,” Hendrix warns darkly.
I still with my arms in my t-shirt and look at him.
“If you’re not interested in getting a little hot, then all you’ve got to do is say. We’re stuck here for the foreseeable future; as far as I can see, we either die of boredom watching endless Hallmark movies, or we have some fun.
“Which would you rather do?”
“Don’t worry, Wild Child,” he mocks, using the nickname our sister gave me years ago. “I’m having plenty of fun.”
“But you could be having more,” I say as he walks toward the couch, putting my AirPods back in as he goes.
“I thought you were having a cooking lesson,” he prompts before dropping onto the couch and getting comfortable.