It was hard to be mad at someone when they were naked in your bedroom. Even harder, he decided, when this particular someone was rifling through his extensive collection of purple shirts – likely in search of something to wear – with such an expression of puzzlement on her face.
Gippal cocked his head to one side curiously and asked the only question he could think of under the circumstances.
"Is it my birthday?"
She obviously hadn't heard him enter, because she jumped in surprise, jerking the shirt she was holding in front of her, effectively ruining the view.
"God, you scared me. Do you have to be so stealthy?" She complained. "You might've knocked or something."
"On my own bedroom door?" He arched an eyebrow, pleased to see her flush. "I'm just shocked you didn't hear me stomping up the stairs." He leaned heavily against the door frame as though he were settling in to watch, enjoying the indignant expression that crossed her features.
"I was soaked," she said. "This is Djose, after all. Rain's fairly common. I needed a change of clothes. You were out in the workshop and I didn't want to disturb you."
"Ah," he said. "So that's why you tracked mud all over my floors. And my carpets. My nice, clean, professionally and very expensively cleaned carpets." He frowned, hoping he looked sufficiently annoyed. "You know, if you worked here, you'd be cleaning those carpets yourself. I'm half-tempted to make you clean them anyway."
"I'd have to be insane to work for a slave-driver like you," she muttered, irritated.
He was dangerously close to laughing, but he schooled his features into a neutral expression. "You might want to think twice before insulting the man whose clothes you need to borrow."
She studied him intently for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he could be so callous as to deny her in her perceived time of need. "You wouldn't," she concluded.
"I assure you, I would." He gave her a grin that was decidedly wicked, then shouldered away from the doorframe.
"Gippal, what are you doing?" She backed up a few paces. "I really do need a shirt at least, you know."
"It's okay. I've seen you naked before." The door closed with a soft click, and he turned the lock.
"Not since we were kids!" She gasped. "There's…there's a big difference between seeing me then and seeing me now!" For instance, now she had breasts and he looked like it was his goal in life to get a good, long look at them. And probably other typically unexposed bits, too.
"Not to be reading too much into things or anything," he said, "but you did choose my bedroom to change in, and you didn't lock the door. One might think you wanted me to walk in on you."
"I-I just forgot to lock it," she lied, "And I just hadn't picked out something to wear yet! It's just that I was overcome with the amount of purple clothing you own. You'd think you'd never heard of color variation or anything, honestly. It's all about balancing colors. You're…you're way down on yellows. And some green wouldn't go amiss."
She knew she sounded stupid, but she tended to babble when she was nervous, and the vaguely predatory way he was watching her made her just a little nervous. And a little more excited.
"You know, you're awfully red. Are you nervous or embarrassed?" He caught her around the waist, dragging her towards him. She was faced with either allowing herself to stay caught or dropping the shirt and relinquishing all claim to modesty in order to make her escape.
His lips hovered near her ear, his warm breath fanning her cheek. She shivered at the sensation. Letting herself get caught was looking better and better all the time. His lips touched her earlobe, his voice a husky murmur as he spoke.
"Tell me what you were up to."
His voice rippled through her, sending goose bumps skittering over her skin. She clutched the shirt tighter, trying to concentrate. It seemed an impossible task – between his hand sliding lower and lower over the small of her back towards her bottom and his lips brushing her heated skin, she was willing to bet he was doing his best to make sure she stayed distracted.
"I-I…you got here too early," she gasped finally. "I really did get caught in the rain. I was looking for something to wear when you came in."
"I know," he said. "Your hair's wet." He nuzzled her throat. "But you were definitely acting suspicious. Tell me why." And he went back to his maddening sensual torment. Had he no shame?
Her knees had turned to jelly. She could practically feel herself melting against him. Her fingers curved over his shoulders, nails clutching as she fought to remember to breathe.
"Well, I…I might've let you find me in one of your shirts," she admitted.
"Just a shirt?" His teeth tugged her earlobe. "Where were you planning to be when I walked in?"
She bit her lower lip. "I hadn't decided." A shudder worked down her spine as his tongue traced the shell of her ear.
"Liar," he murmured. "Tell me."
"The bed, okay?" She huffed, then sighed as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. "But you came in too early and ruined it."
"Hm," he said thoughtfully. "You know, letting me find you in my clothes in my bed isn't particularly subtle."
"Subtlety is not my forte," she said curtly, sliding his hand from her rear back up to the small of her back. "Stop that. I don't let people I'm not dating touch my butt."
"But you do climb into their beds," he remarked.
"Only if I'm interested in dating them," she replied.
"Well, suppose I was willing to give this dating thing a go," he said. "Could I touch your butt then?"
"As long as you never do it in front of my father," she said. "Can I put on the shirt, now?" She wriggled a little in his arms.
"Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?" He linked his hands behind her back, kissing her temple.
"Because I don't get naked for anyone until at least the third date. You got lucky and caught me off-guard, but I do have some principles. So turn around."
"Spoilsport." His lower lip thrust out in a pout.
"Suck it up," she said as he turned his back. She shrugged into the shirt, deftly fastening the buttons. "Okay. I'm decent."
"You sure are." He liked the way the purple silk shirt looked against her skin – warm and inviting. It left a good portion of her long, smooth legs bare, and threatened to dip off one shoulder.
"I'm going to go put my clothes in the dryer," she said. "As comfortable as this shirt is, I think I'd better get my clothes back on as soon as possible."
"Why's that?" He liked seeing her in his shirt. It was a shame she wanted to change back so soon.
"Because you look like you're concocting schemes which probably involve me doing a lot of bending over," she shot back. "I've known you for a long time; I know how you think."
"All right, all right," he replied. "Tell you what. It's probably not such a great idea to be walking around the faction in just my shirt. I'll take your clothes down to the laundry room."
She grimaced. He employed a lot of men who probably didn't get around women all that much. Especially scantily clad ones. "Point taken," she said, handing over her damp bundle of clothing. "I'll just wait here, then, thanks."
"No problem." Gippal took her clothes and headed for the laundry room, tossing Rikku's clothes in the dryer. "Raji!" He called.
"Yeah, boss?" A man poked his head around the corner.
"In about fifteen minutes, I want you to come up to my room and tell me the dryer's busted and that we'll have to hang Rikku's clothes up to dry instead," Gippal said.
"But it's not busted. It's working just fine." Raji's brows drew together in confusion.
"I know that and you know that but Rikku doesn't know that," Gippal replied. "Fifteen minutes," he instructed. "And then order us a pizza, if you would. Rikku and I will be eating in tonight."
Oh, yes. He foresaw a long evening of inventing reasons for her to bend over. She knew him too well.