Page 88 of Trailer Park Billionaire

Her eyes flick up to mine, a smile spreading in them.

“You wish you were as cool as a gargoyle.”

I laugh and resist the urge to pull her in even closer than she already is.

“I want to draw you again,” Helena says suddenly, her voice much too sultry. “Like one of my French girls… or Greek statues…”

“Or mysterious gargoyles?” I add, trying to defuse the sexual tension.

Her eyes flutter at me. Her hands are on my chest now.

We’re well into dangerous territory here.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I try to put an end to our flirting for good. “Now it’s time for bed. Come on.”

Helena pulls back and looks down to the ground. Then she kicks off her shoes, wobbling slightly before catching herself. I kneel to pick them up, setting them neatly by the door—just so I have something to do with my hands that isn’t touching her. Then I take my own shoes off as well.

“Help me with my zipper?” She turns her back to me, her hair sensually waving over her shoulder as if she’s re-enacting a shampoo commercial shot by a porn producer.

I swallow hard.

She must have done that on purpose.

I find the small zipper at the back of her dress, the fabric warm from her skin. As I tug it downward, I catch a glimpse of her exposed back. My fingers graze her spine, visibly sending shivers along with them.

This is fine. Perfectly fine. Friends help friends get naked all the time.

Her dress pools at her feet, leaving her in just a lacy black bra and matching panties.

That was on purpose too,I think.

I force myself to look away, grabbing the shirt and shorts she sometimes wears to bed, while she shuffles to the bathroom. Still averting my eyes, I toss her the clothes and wait for her to change. Once done, she sighs, her eyelids looking heavy and heavier.

“Alright, next step: brushing those shark teeth, Panda-Bear. Can you handle that, or do you need me on toothbrush duty?”

She makes an adorable show of dramatically biting the air in my direction, which turns into a drawn-out yawn. “I am a strong, independent… aquatic predator, Benedikt. I can brush my own teeth.”

“Good. Then I’ll just… supervise.”

I lean against the doorframe, watching as she lazily scrubs her teeth. Halfway through, she pauses to squint at me in the mirror. “You’re staring.”

“I’m supervising.”

“There a difference?”

“One is way less creepy.”

A bit of foam bubbles from her grinning lips. She finishes up, rinses her mouth, and wipes her face with a towel, then looks at herself in the mirror.

I push off the door frame and step behind her, meeting her gaze in the reflection.

When she turns around, that buzz sparks again. I ignore it and, instead, reach for a cotton pad and the little bottle she always uses.

“Close your eyes,” I murmur.

Helena complies. I cradle her jaw in one hand, the pad in the other, and wipe it gently across her lids. Her lashes flutter as I work, her lips parting slightly. There’s something weirdly intimate about this. Like I’m unpainting her. Returning her to something softer. Something only I get to see. In a way, she’s even more beautiful without the makeup.

When I finish, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking up at me. I tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear.