78

— H O O R —

. . .

Leaning against the headboard of our room, I read the book in my hand, going through the lines leisurely but all my attention is taken by Zahir as soon as he enters the room.

He comes out of the bathroom, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants. There is a towel in his hand as he ruffles his hair. His eyes wander around until they land on me.

He finds me staring at him but says nothing. He walks away to hand the towel and comes back to stand before the vanity.

All the while I stare at him blankly. I am half annoyed by this stupid habit of his, wondering when would he start listening to me, but on the other hand, I have been feeling something wild as well as pleasant in my stomach by the view of his half-naked body.

He is hot. His muscles flex with each movement he makes and his carved abs are something that I cannot seem to ignore. I have glanced at them before and as not lying to myself, for a moment I was impressed, soon followed by a very shameless and sensual id