And she imdiately looked away. "Whoa, whoa. What are you doing?"
But he ignored her.
His trousers hit the floor a second later, and he was standing there in just his brief. His hands were reaching for a towel.
"Caius," she snapped, her hand covering her eyes, "stop. I’m showering first."
"You’re not even in the shower yet."
"I’m about to be!"
He paused just long enough to look at her.
"You’re covering your face like I haven’t seen you naked," he said.
Her face flushed slightly; his words had caught her off guard. "I—I don’t care. This is not the ti."
She snatched the towel from his hands, because he stopped listening to her.
"You took another man’s coat," he said casually, as if comnting on the weather.
Heather let her hand drop, glaring at him. She t his gaze in the mirror. He was just being—well—Caius, difficult for no reason.
Heather crossed her arms and stared at the laundry basket for a long second. Her eyes shifted to Caius, then back at Jake’s coat lying there.
Heather’s voice ca out quieter than she ant.
"Jake’s coat has nothing to do with this conversation."
She tried to move past it, but sothing about the way Caius had stared at the coat wouldn’t leave her alone.
The silence he was offering wasn’t empty, it had weight to it.
Her eyes narrowed a little.
"Wait..." she said slowly, "is that why you didn’t drop your shirt in that basket?"
Still, no answer.
Caius just turned away, and walked over to the cabinet behind the mirror, pulled it open, and calmly retrieved a black toiletry case.
It was a shower kit, and he set it on the counter, then began unzipping it like she wasn’t even there.
Heather’s patience cracked a little more.
"I don’t know why you’re still in here," she said, more firmly this ti. "I’m showering first."
Silence.
She couldn’t explain why his silence bothered her more than if he had snapped at her.
She moved closer and tapped his shoulder—not hard, just enough to say she was done being ignored.
He turned his head slowly.
And when his eyes landed on her, they didn’t move.
There was sothing unnerving in the way he stared. Cold, still, and dead. He didn’t look surprised, or confused. Or even annoyed. Just... aware.
Almost too aware.
She forced herself to et his gaze.
"If you don’t leave now," she said, the words sounded even and deliberate in her head, "I’m going to get undressed."
There. That should do it. That should finally push him out of the room.
But instead of stepping away, Caius smiled.
He was smiling?
Why... why was he smiling?
That didn’t make sense. He should not smile in monts like this—at least, not this kind of smile.
Not the quiet, lazy one curling at the corner of his mouth now.
He leaned in slightly; just enough to shrink the space between them.
Then his voice ca, deep and smooth, like he wasn’t trying to be rude or flirty—just honest in the most infuriating way.
"You think I haven’t seen your body before, Heather?"
She blinked and tried breathing, but her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn’t the words, not exactly. It was the way he said them. It sounded like it was beneath him to pretend he was shocked.
And she imdiately knew her threat had amused him more than anything else.
She stepped back imdiately. Not because she was afraid, but because she knew him.
She knew how fast a mont could turn into sothing else if she was not careful.
She did not say anything more. She just turned, gathered her robe, her towel, her bag of skin care products with shaky fingers.
She needed space and needed him to shower and leave so she could breathe again.
She walked toward the door, not bothering to look back. If she did, she knew she’d find him still watching.
But just before she opened the door, his voice ca again—softer this ti.
"Heather."
Sothing about the way he said her na made her pause.
She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder.
"You forgot sothing," he said.
She looked down and froze.
He was holding sothing in his hand. Pinched lightly between his fingers.
Her underwear.
Her mouth went dry, and her eyes went widened. The underwear was wrinkled, he must have pulled them from his pocket or sothing.
She walked back too quickly, snatched it from him with a startled movent.
Her fingers brushed his, and she noticed how icy his skin was.
"W—what... What were you doing with that?" she asked, almost stuttering.
Caius didn’t look startled or even mildly caught off guard. And he didn’t even seem embarrassed.
"I found it this morning," he said casually, like he had just picked up a sock.
"T—this... This morning?" Her voice was high and disbelieving. "Why didn’t you just give it back?"
He shrugged; just one shoulder. Heather interpreted that as sothing that didn’t matter.
But the way he looked at her when he shrugged... it made her stomach twist.
He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t smirk. But there was sothing in his eyes—sothing slow and suggestive, and didn’t belong in silence.
And that’s when it hit her.
Her eyes widened slightly, as her breath caught.
He had kept it, not just because he forgot.
No.
He had kept it for a reason.
Heather’s cheeks flushed deep red. Her mind recoiled from the possibilities.
She didn’t want to picture anything, but her thoughts were already racing there—toward places she didn’t want them to go.
"You’re disgusting," she muttered under her breath.
But Caius didn’t respond.
He only stood there, still holding the now-empty space where her underwear had been.
Heather turned and walked out of the room with her things clutched tightly against her chest.
The worst part wasn’t that she was embarrassed, but that she couldn’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes.
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