“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” I murmured. It kind of struck me then that I was still just in my jeans and bra, but I honestly didn’t care. Tomorrow would most definitely be a different story.

“We’re not.”

I pried one eye open. “Ha.”

“Thought you’d like that.” He swiped the cool, damp cloth along my chin.

“You’re very… good at this.”

“Had a lot of practice.” Cam tossed the towel aside, grabbed a new one and repeated the steps. “Been where you are quite a few times.” He ran it down my neck, over my bra straps and then the length of my arms. “Want to get ready for bed?”

My other eye flew open.

He shook his head and the dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he said, standing. With his back to me, he rummaged around the sink. A faucet turned on. He was back in front of me again, holding a loaded toothbrush. “Thought you’d want to get the taste out of your mouth.”

My fingers made grabby motions. “You are wonderful.”

“I know.” He handed it over and then replaced the toothbrush with one of those paper cups I never used. When I was all done, he knelt again and rocked back on his heels. He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off. “I’ve been trying to get you to say I’m wonderful from the first time you plowed into me. If I’d known that all it would take was handing you a toothbrush, I would have done that a long time ago. My loss.”

“No. It was my…” I pushed myself up a little, watching as he reached down and pulled the shirt off his head. “My loss—what are you doing?”

“I don’t know where your clothes are.”

“Uh-huh.” My gaze dropped and I think I needed the damp towel again.

“And I figured you’d want to get out of your clothes.”

In the bright light, I saw the detail on the sun tattoo like I never had before. There had to be a thousand little marks inside the sun, giving it such a realistic, fiery detail. “Yeah…”

“So the easiest thing would be to let you borrow my shirt.”

My eyes went even lower, over the dusky nipple and then down, tracing each ripple of his stomach muscles.  “Okay.”

“Then you’d be more comfortable.”

There was a fine dusting of dark hair the appeared under his navel and traveled south, below the band on his jeans. It looks like someone placed their fingers on either side of his hips, indenting the skin there. “Sure,” I murmured. How did someone get muscles there? Like what kind of stomach exercises did you have to subject yourself to?

“You haven’t been listening to a single thing I’ve said.”

I dragged my gaze up. “Nuh-uh.”