Confront him directly

Jasmin didn't hesitate.

She stepped out of the bathroom, water dripping from her body, her bare feet leaving damp prints on the hardwood floor. Steam curled around her as she moved into the hallway, completely nude—her small, perky breasts on full display, her nipples already hard from the cool air, her smooth, hairless pussy glistening with droplets that slid down her inner thighs.

Her father was halfway to the stairs. He stopped when he heard her footsteps, turning to face her.

Jasmin didn't cover herself. Didn't shrink back. Instead, she stood up straighter, her shoulders back, letting him see everything. Her heart was pounding, but not from fear. A heat was building between her legs that had nothing to do with the hot shower she'd just left.

"Where are the towels?"

Her father's gaze swept over her—slowly this time. Deliberately. His eyes traveled from her wet, tangled hair down to her hard nipples, over the flat plane of her stomach, lingering for just a moment on the bare, smooth slit between her thighs before settling on her face.

"Laundry. Your mother's doing a big load. Dryer's broken, so everything's hanging on the line outside. Should be some in the hall closet, though."

His voice was steady. Casual. But Jasmin caught the way his pupils had dilated, the slight pause in his breathing.

He looked. He actually looked.

A pulse of arousal throbbed between her legs.

He turned and continued down the stairs, but Jasmin could have sworn his steps were slower than before.

She stood alone in the hallway, water droplets sliding down her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts, trailing down her stomach toward the heat between her thighs. Her nipples ached. Her pussy was wet, and not just from the shower.

He didn't even blink. Twice now. And he definitely liked what he saw.

She walked to the hall closet and pulled it open.

Empty.

The top shelf—bare. The lower shelves—nothing. Not even a washcloth.

Great.

She stood there for a moment, her hand drifting unconsciously to her breast, fingers brushing over her hardened nipple. The sensation sent a jolt straight to her core. She was so turned on it almost hurt.

She turned and walked back toward her room, still completely nude, her ass swaying with each step, her mind racing with possibilities.

She pushed open her bedroom door and stopped.

The laundry basket by her closet was empty. Her dresser drawers—she yanked them open one by one. A few stray socks. Nothing else. The closet—bare hangers, empty space.

Everything is in the wash.

She stood in the center of her room, wet and naked, no towel, no clothes, nothing. Her hand slid down her stomach, fingers brushing over her bare mound, feeling the slick heat that waited there.

A laugh bubbled up from her chest.

Okay. This is actually happening. And I'm so fucking wet.

The clock on her nightstand read 7:05. The bus came at 7:35. Her father had already left.

Just her and her mother now.