Page 48 of Ghost Ribbon

“I won’t,” I said quickly, even though I wasn’t sure that was true. “I can take care of myself.”

He finally glanced up at me, towel still moving over my hair.

“You stood in the rain for an hour because you were too scared to leave. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I can take care of myself.’”

My cheeks burned. I looked away, staring at the floor instead.

“You’re being… nice,” I muttered quietly. “It’s making me more nervous. Usually when you’re around me you’re either scaring me or kissing me or both. This is different. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Alexei kept moving the towel over my hair.

“I’m not being nice. I’m making sure you don’t catch pneumonia.”

I let out a shaky breath and looked down at my lap again. My hands were still gripping the edge of the bed.

“Okay,” I whispered. “But… you can stop now if you want.”

Alexei ignored that and kept going, moving the towel to the back of my neck and then carefully around my ears.

“I’ll stop when I’m done.”

Alexei finished drying my hair, the towel moved over my curls one last time before he stood up, folded it neatly, and set it on the edge of my desk.

He walked over to my closet without asking and pulled the door open. He looked inside, then glanced back at me.

“Get undressed.”

My arms immediately wrapped around myself, eyes wide.

Alexei turned to face me fully, one hand resting on the closet door, studying my expression.

“Don’t forget I left my marks on your ass. I saw enough last time. Change.”

I felt my face burn hot. “I—I,” I stammered. “Turn around.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I really don’t want to get undressed in front of you,” I muttered. My body wasn’t anything special. I knew that. I wasn’t built like the rich kids at school with their perfect everything. I was small and skinny. Not that I cared what he thought of my body… but still. The idea of him seeing me like that made my skin crawl with nerves.

Alexei’s head tilted slightly. He must have seen something in my face because his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“Are you shy,” he asked, voice low, “or insecure?”

I swallowed hard. “… isn’t that the same?”

“No.”

He clicked his tongue once, then he threw a set of pajamas at me and turned around, facing the closet instead of me.

“I’m giving you one minute,” he said over his shoulder. “And then I’m turning back around.”

My eyes went wide. “One minute?! That isn’t enough time—”

“One minute, Marco.”

I panicked. I scrambled off the bed so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. I yanked the top over my head, almost hitting myself in the face with my own arm, then peeled off my soaked jeans. They were halfway down my legs when I stumbled again, nearly falling forward onto the bed.

“Ah—!”