Page 63 of Thug

She’d earned the right to get whatever she wanted. “You name it, we’ll do it”

She stood, slowly. She squeegeed the water from her sunburned arms with the web of her hands. “Can I have a towel?”

Her exhaustion was apparent. I gave her naked body a quick once-over, and then looked away. “Are you sure you want to ride on that hardtail to town? You look like hell. Not like hell. You look good. Damned good. Maybe tired. You know what I mean.”

She laughed. “Thank you. But you’re right, I feel like hell. I’m hungry, though. What other options do we have?”

I handed her a towel. “I’m sure I can come up with a few.”

She dried off and then stepped out of the tub, not bothering to cover up. She began towel-drying her hair. “Do you know where my car is?”

Her self-confidence—the fact that she was willing to stand before me naked and carry on a conversation as if she were clothed—drove me wild with desire. It wasn’t the time or the place for us to have sex, but my cock thought otherwise. Embarrassed by my lack of ability to maintain control over my male anatomy, I walked to the doorway and leaned against the wall. I lowered my gaze to the floor.

Regarding sexual stimuli, I realized I was different in high school. While my friends were stimulated by photos of naked women or a glimpse of the plunging neckline worn by a top-heavy cheerleader, I could care less. Seeing a naked woman provided little, if any, excitement whatsoever.

My only interest in women was to have sex with them. At times, sex was a difficult task. Stimulation didn’t come easily, and often required acts of sadism on my part. I dismissed the differences between me and my friends as being a product of my exposure to my parent’s deaths, expecting I’d never have a conventional relationship with a woman.

Yet.

Seeing Gray naked had me embarrassingly stiff.

A person wouldn’t describe her as having the tits of a porn star, the ass of a gymnast, or the abdomen of an athletic trainer. She was normal. Being naked revealed no outstanding qualities or characteristics, other than the fact she was undeniably attractive.

I looked up. She was still naked. “I’m not sure,” I lied. “I’ll have to ask around. I’m sure we can have it back at your bar in the morning.”

If it hadn’t been burned yet, her Pathfinder was at Brisco’s. I had no intention of letting her know Brisco was involved in her abduction. Taking her to his house to recover the car would be a dead giveaway. If the vehicle had been torched, I’d deal with it accordingly.

“What about my purse?” she asked.

“I’m sure it’s with your car,” I said, hoping like hell it hadn’t been set afire along with her SUV.

If so, I’d buy her another.

“I hope my phone’s in it,” she said.

“Me, too.” I reached into my pocket. “I bought a new phone.”

She lowered the towel. “A smart phone?”

“No, a dumb one.” I showed her the phone, flipping it open and snapping it closed like it was a magnificent feat of cell phone engineering. I hoped fiddling with it would be enough of a distraction that the swelling in my pants would subside, but I had no such luck. “Little black flip-phone, just like my other.”

“You crack me up,” she said, facing the mirror as she spoke. “Only person in the entire state that has a flip-phone that’s not a burner.”

I laughed. “What do you know about burners?”

She nodded toward my hand. “I know they look like that.”

While guiltily admiring her naked body, I realized she didn’t have any clothes to wear. Her shirt was filthy and sweat-stained, and her shorts and panties smelled like a wet goat.

“How about this,” I said. “I’ll give you a tee shirt and a pair of shorts to wear, and I’ll make us something to eat?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re going to cook?”

I needed to leave the room before I embarrassed myself. “I’m the only one living here,” I said. “If there’s any cooking going on, it’s done by me.”

“So, you cook?”

“I do.”