It was supposed to be a joke, so he need not be forced if he didn't want to do it.
Lysander wasn't the type of guy to be told twice.
He peeled the wet shirt over his head, and before I could even run a quick scan over his body, Lysander had already thrown the wet shirt on my face, and I swatted it, but it was too late.
It landed on my forehead, and I couldn't see anything at all.
Well, it would be better this way. I stomped my foot towards the laundry basket as I turned my back against him, throwing the shirt.
I heard a rustle of fabric, and I just knew by instinct that he had taken off his pants.
I hear footfalls slowly stepping towards me, and it grew even louder when Lysander approached.
Clasping a hand through my beating chest, I willed myself to calm down over his half-naked body's proximity.
I felt the warmth emanating from his skin when his naked chest touched my back.