Chapter 22

The sight that welcomes me is even better than I imagined; he’s wearing only a T-shirt and long boxer-briefs. His hair looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in a month and dark stubble paints his cheeks. The out-of-sync swaying of his hips is terrible, but also adorable and mesmerizing, and I can’t take my eyes off his ass.

He doesn’t have a bubble butt; in pants, his ass doesn’t stand out as his best feature—his long, longlegs do—but clothed in only snug-fitting underwear, his ass is spectacular. The muscles move and flex as he dances, and I just want to cross the floor, fall to my knees behind him, grab handfuls of his flesh, and burrow my face between his cheeks.