tapped his razor against the sink, shook it off, and lifted his chin. “Hey,” he said, and slowly stroked the razor down his neck.
She commanded her eyes to behave. Instead they trailed down his body, which was covered only by a fluffy white towel hanging low on his hips. The red marring the perfection of his back caught her attention. The skin on his left side had been shredded when he was dragged across the asphalt. Guilt did a slow slide to her stomach.
She glanced again at the mirror. Those freaking blue eyes, like a hidden, untouched body of water, swam into her. In them, she saw herself naked.
“How's your shoulder?” He wiped the leftover shaving cream from his face.
“Better.” She stared at a little wisp of wet hair close to his right temple, distracting herself from his eyes, and from his practically naked body.
“Good.” He reached his hand across her to open a linen closet, and she quickly stepped back. “Here it is,” he said as he pulled out a sling and untangled the straps. “There,” he said, his voice low and raspy as he placed a strap around her. He gently maneuvered her arm into the holster, secured the straps and fastened them. “How's that feel? Comfortable?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks.”
“Come back here.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I need to fix something.”
She glanced down at the apparatus. Nothing appeared out of place.
Like a lion pursuing its prey, he advanced on her. Rough fingers brushed her belly, and her muscles contracted. He smiled, a strange sort of warmth spreading over his face. Strange, because it was without malicious teasing. “Just as I thought,” he said as he yanked up her shirt.
Before she could pull away, he had finished fastening the button on her jeans and pulled up the rest of her zipper. The long shirt dropped around her hips. It had to be his. With that thought, another popped into her head. Oh God, did he see me naked? “Did you put this on me?”
His arm came up, and his biceps bunched as if struggling to stay contained within his skin. He pushed his fingers through his dark hair and let out a low, exasperated breath. “I don’t think we need to discuss that.”
“Oh, but we do!”
Disregarding her outburst, he went into the bedroom.
She followed, needing a better answer. He stopped in front of the dresser so abruptly she nearly bumped into him. “Answer me!” she ordered sternly.
“I didn't look, if that’s what you’re insinua—”
“You expect me to believe that? Really?”
“Yessss.” He drew the word out. “And I’ll tell you why. I didn’t want to spoil it.”
“Spoil what?” she snapped, getting angrier by the moment.
Mischievous little flecks sparkled in his eyes. “When we have sex, Nala—and we will—I want your body to be a surprise.”
Her fist, the good one, clenched tightly. “You think I’ll have sex with you? The arrogance!”
A small chuckle escaped his throat. Shrugging in a manner more conceited than any contradiction could be, he turned back to the dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of athletic pants. His hand went to the towel around his lean waist.
A small trail of dark hair led downward. A thrill ran down her spine. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded sharply.
Barely holding on to the towel, he said, “I'm going to put some pants on.” He grinned.
“If you want to be surprised, too, I suggest you look away.”
“We’re not going to have—”
His fingers plucked at the towel. “All right, then. Look your fill.”
Nala turned away, but not because she wanted to be surprised. Oh, he thought he was clever this time. Either way, he won.
“The coast is clear,” he said, stalking by her toward the bathroom. She winced at the sight of his fiery red back, where some areas were already starting to scab over.
That’s strange, Nala thought, for his wounds to be scabbing already. Unless …. She marched into the bathroom. “How long
She commanded her eyes to behave. Instead they trailed down his body, which was covered only by a fluffy white towel hanging low on his hips. The red marring the perfection of his back caught her attention. The skin on his left side had been shredded when he was dragged across the asphalt. Guilt did a slow slide to her stomach.
She glanced again at the mirror. Those freaking blue eyes, like a hidden, untouched body of water, swam into her. In them, she saw herself naked.
“How's your shoulder?” He wiped the leftover shaving cream from his face.
“Better.” She stared at a little wisp of wet hair close to his right temple, distracting herself from his eyes, and from his practically naked body.
“Good.” He reached his hand across her to open a linen closet, and she quickly stepped back. “Here it is,” he said as he pulled out a sling and untangled the straps. “There,” he said, his voice low and raspy as he placed a strap around her. He gently maneuvered her arm into the holster, secured the straps and fastened them. “How's that feel? Comfortable?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks.”
“Come back here.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I need to fix something.”
She glanced down at the apparatus. Nothing appeared out of place.
Like a lion pursuing its prey, he advanced on her. Rough fingers brushed her belly, and her muscles contracted. He smiled, a strange sort of warmth spreading over his face. Strange, because it was without malicious teasing. “Just as I thought,” he said as he yanked up her shirt.
Before she could pull away, he had finished fastening the button on her jeans and pulled up the rest of her zipper. The long shirt dropped around her hips. It had to be his. With that thought, another popped into her head. Oh God, did he see me naked? “Did you put this on me?”
His arm came up, and his biceps bunched as if struggling to stay contained within his skin. He pushed his fingers through his dark hair and let out a low, exasperated breath. “I don’t think we need to discuss that.”
“Oh, but we do!”
Disregarding her outburst, he went into the bedroom.
She followed, needing a better answer. He stopped in front of the dresser so abruptly she nearly bumped into him. “Answer me!” she ordered sternly.
“I didn't look, if that’s what you’re insinua—”
“You expect me to believe that? Really?”
“Yessss.” He drew the word out. “And I’ll tell you why. I didn’t want to spoil it.”
“Spoil what?” she snapped, getting angrier by the moment.
Mischievous little flecks sparkled in his eyes. “When we have sex, Nala—and we will—I want your body to be a surprise.”
Her fist, the good one, clenched tightly. “You think I’ll have sex with you? The arrogance!”
A small chuckle escaped his throat. Shrugging in a manner more conceited than any contradiction could be, he turned back to the dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of athletic pants. His hand went to the towel around his lean waist.
A small trail of dark hair led downward. A thrill ran down her spine. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded sharply.
Barely holding on to the towel, he said, “I'm going to put some pants on.” He grinned.
“If you want to be surprised, too, I suggest you look away.”
“We’re not going to have—”
His fingers plucked at the towel. “All right, then. Look your fill.”
Nala turned away, but not because she wanted to be surprised. Oh, he thought he was clever this time. Either way, he won.
“The coast is clear,” he said, stalking by her toward the bathroom. She winced at the sight of his fiery red back, where some areas were already starting to scab over.
That’s strange, Nala thought, for his wounds to be scabbing already. Unless …. She marched into the bathroom. “How long
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