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Meow.

Glancing at the cat, I cock my head at him as if to ask, “What?”

He continues to stare at me. I can feel his judgment. Why are cats such assholes?

Ignoring him, I flip through the missed calls and texts. All the calls are from the same number, but there’re no voicemails and the person didn’t text him. I’ll definitely do my deep dive later when I’m alone.

At the sound of the tub draining, I nearly drop both phones. Fuck. Quickly, I yank the cord out of his phone, turn it off, and shove it into the suitcase. I zip it up and stuff my own phone back into my pocket. I’m just starting back for the door when the bathroom door flings open.

He doesn’t see me at first and comes sauntering out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel tied around his waist. With all his clothes on, he’s thus far seemed kind of small to me. But now? Nearly naked? He’s not so tiny. His shoulders and biceps are carved with lean muscle. I skim my gaze down his hard pectorals and tight abs, landing at the bulge under his towel.

“Jude! What the hell are you doing in my room?”

I jerk my stare from his dick and meet his widened eyes. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” His neck burns bright red as he crosses his arms over his chest. “This is not okay.”

Shame runs thick through my veins. “I, uh, wanted to see Fucky.”

Lies.

Tate’s lips purse together as he darts a look over at the cat. “You can’t even say his name right and suddenly you’re BFFs?”

“Yep,” I rasp out, continuing my lie. “I love cats.” To further convince him, I sit on the edge of the bed and awkwardly pet the rumbling fur ball. “See?”

For fuck’s sake.

I’m a bumbling idiot.

Tate continues to gape at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t believe you.”

I snap my head up to look at him. With just a towel covering his virtually hairless body, he sort of reminds me of the sculptures we studied in school. A Michelangelo work of art. Smooth, made of marble, meant for staring at.

My brain short-circuits as I attempt to make sense of my thoughts. I can hear Tate mumbling things, but I’m still trying to figure out why I think this man’s body is so enticing to look at.

And he is enticing.

Distractingly so.

“Why are you really here?” Tate demands. “To order me around some more?”

I fixate on his mouth. Full, pouty lips. The bottom one is slightly bigger and protrudes a little more. His almost black hair is damp and not styled, hanging over his eyebrows messily. I like that he’s a bit less put together than usual.

“I, uh, thought I would give you a tour before dinner,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He unfolds his arms and studies me for a beat. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place instead of lying?”

I avoid his probing stare and end up noticing how his pink nipples are pebbled. A ripple ofsomethingflitters through my body, settling in the pit of my stomach. His nipples are almost as intriguing as his lips.

“I don’t know,” I rumble. The first truth in this whole conversation. “I know you were upset earlier. I thought I would soften you by pretending to like your cat.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Soften me up to my new ice-cold floors and forced captivity?”

Ice-cold floors?

“Is the temperature not suitable for you?” I ask, voice gruff, skimming my eyes down for another quick peek at his nipples. “You’re too cold here?”

He rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to the dresser, his back to me. I notice his back is also sculpted to precision like his chest, abs, shoulders, and arms. I wonder what his thighs look like.