Foreman did his best to muffle a chuckle when Amber's mouth clamped shut and she--as predicted--flung his clothes in his face. He had to reach out with one hand to grab his sweater, but the jeans and his hoodie slapped him square in the chest. One thing he could say for Amber: she had a good arm. If only they'd stayed at that crappy little Hallowe'en fair longer, Foreman would bet she'd have whipped his ass at knocking over lead-weighted milk bottles with a softball. He got out of her way when she brushed past him.
With a quick exhale, Foreman watched her head to her bedroom. One thing that would make things so much between them would be if she didn't tense up every time he tried to help her relax. From his hug earlier tonight to her nearly biting his head off because he'd asked for some clothes he'd never expected her to wash in the first place. It wasn't a big deal. Okay, there were a hell of a lot of things in Foreman's life that he took seriously. Anything to do with his work--he'd be pissed off if Amber ever laughed at his medical decisions, or one of his articles--and he'd been disappointed when Amber had barely reacted when he'd cooked that omelette for her. Those moments that cut down his dignity. But he was better at being laid back over the smaller stuff than perhaps Amber realized or was ready to deal with.
Since she'd thrown his jeans at him as well, Foreman decided to change all the way; it'd be better than getting his pants wrinkled. He pulled on the jeans quickly, and then followed Amber to the bedroom, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he went. "Do you have a hanger I can use?" he asked, looking up from the last button when he reached her. He could get away with simply washing and ironing his shirt instead of dry-cleaning it as long as it didn't get too disastrously crumpled.
He couldn't really help the fact that his eyes wandered down the slim line of her bare back to the firm curve of her ass under her skirt. He wasn't going to make a big deal of it; but damn, when there was an opportunity, he wasn't going to let it pass by entirely. He was attracted to her, and she knew it. Anyway, with her back mostly turned to him, maybe she wouldn't notice. Foreman moved past her and laid his work clothes flat on the bed, and then pulled his sweater over his head. Yeah, it needed washing, he could smell that, but he hadn't sweated it through, so it'd be fine for a relaxed evening in. He could even take it with him when he left, to make sure that Amber didn't think he expected her to become his laundress.
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With a quick exhale, Foreman watched her head to her bedroom. One thing that would make things so much between them would be if she didn't tense up every time he tried to help her relax. From his hug earlier tonight to her nearly biting his head off because he'd asked for some clothes he'd never expected her to wash in the first place. It wasn't a big deal. Okay, there were a hell of a lot of things in Foreman's life that he took seriously. Anything to do with his work--he'd be pissed off if Amber ever laughed at his medical decisions, or one of his articles--and he'd been disappointed when Amber had barely reacted when he'd cooked that omelette for her. Those moments that cut down his dignity. But he was better at being laid back over the smaller stuff than perhaps Amber realized or was ready to deal with.
Since she'd thrown his jeans at him as well, Foreman decided to change all the way; it'd be better than getting his pants wrinkled. He pulled on the jeans quickly, and then followed Amber to the bedroom, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he went. "Do you have a hanger I can use?" he asked, looking up from the last button when he reached her. He could get away with simply washing and ironing his shirt instead of dry-cleaning it as long as it didn't get too disastrously crumpled.
He couldn't really help the fact that his eyes wandered down the slim line of her bare back to the firm curve of her ass under her skirt. He wasn't going to make a big deal of it; but damn, when there was an opportunity, he wasn't going to let it pass by entirely. He was attracted to her, and she knew it. Anyway, with her back mostly turned to him, maybe she wouldn't notice. Foreman moved past her and laid his work clothes flat on the bed, and then pulled his sweater over his head. Yeah, it needed washing, he could smell that, but he hadn't sweated it through, so it'd be fine for a relaxed evening in. He could even take it with him when he left, to make sure that Amber didn't think he expected her to become his laundress.