Nicholas Pov
Nathan slid out of the bed, completely unbothered and completely naked—like modesty was a foreign concept only peasants believed in.
I stared. Then blinked. Then glared.
"Do you mind?" I asked, voice flat with pure, exhausted annoyance.
"Yes, actually," Nathan muttered, not slowing down. "You're the one who barged in without knocking."
He strutted—strutted—into the bathroom suite like he owned the place.
I dragged a hand down my face and turned to Greg… who was trying, and failing, to hide a dreamy, stupidly smitten smile behind the blanket.
"Greg," I warned.
He coughed and sat up straighter, but the grin was still there, soft and guilty.
"That's not helping," I said.
"Sorry," he whispered, absolutely not sorry.
I pointed at him. "You both have ten minutes—ten—to get dressed and get your shit together."
Then I swung the door open and walked out before I saw anything else I'd need therapy for.
