Billie Bossa Nova

32.

Comfort food was never something Billie found herself indulging in. However, there was a tub of tin roof ice-cream in the fridge that she could not ignore after she had experienced that humiliation downstairs.

Standing with only a towel around her hips by the little counter next to the mini-fridge, Billie shamelessly devoured nearly half the creamy luxury before the hotel door swung open. The door was not too far from where she was standing, Kai's wet body displaying in her peripheral view.

Billie clicked her tongue and walked further into the room as a means of avoiding him having to pass her through the narrow hallway looking the way that he did. The weight of his scrutiny hardened each step.

"Interesting little girl down there," he said it loud enough for her to hear as she made to sit on her bed.

She groaned. "Can you forget it? I really don't need that right now."

"No, Billie, I can't forget it." He leaned against the little counter that was right next to the sink. Billie refused to drift her eyes towards his golden smelting abdomen. "It's actually the best thing I've heard all day, fuck, probably month. Even year. Maybe my whole life."

While she managed to hold back a heavy blush, Billie re-wrapped the towel around her waist and said, "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know. How much did you hear?" She eyed him up and down, feigning disgust.

"Enough."

The statement left room for thought. He downed the last of his water. Poured another glass and began drinking that. A drop of water fell from his lips. Caught on the other little droplets adorning his upper half and sped up its momentum. Billie's eyes followed its journey down his neck, his chest, lower, lower, lower...

His hand swiped the droplet just as it was headed towards his outie belly button. It looked like a tiny little M&M. A perfect imperfection in Billie's opinion. He couldn't even have one thing about him that was absolutely repulsive.

"Lucky bastard," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" he crossed his eyebrows.

She met his perfect little hazelnut eyes that turned amber in the light, scanned his perfectly shaped and full lips, those perfectly trimmed eyebrows, that jaw, that nose, those straight teeth behind his lips, nothing crooked or out of place.

"I said you're a lucky bastard," she repeated. "No scar or stretch mark. How is that even possible?"

He raised an eyebrow. Mostly in challenge, but he was slightly amused as well. "You think so? That I have no scars?"

She drew her eyes across him again. This time, she searched for a dent or imperfection. Still nothing. "I know it."

"No, you don't." She crossed her eyebrows. "Trust me, that's not true."

"You're lying."

He pushed off the counter. Displayed his entire self to her. Lifted his hands up. "You're welcome to check."

She narrowed her eyes. Drew her gaze across him again. Looked into his eyes. He was being serious.

Billie walked up to him and scanned him up and down. Once. Twice. She paced behind him, scanning his muscular back all the way down towards his clothed ass, restricting a blush, she allowed herself to take the view into her memory. It was not everyday an attractive guy welcomed you to check him out. His thighs, covered by the length of his shorts, were clean, save for the hairiness and his legs were the same. She paced around him and continued her investigation as she eyed his biceps, muscles prodding out, but not a single scar or scratch in place. His chest, broad and clean. Not a single dent or flaw on his abdomen. Her gaze drifted lower, down to the front of his shorts, but she stopped herself just there.