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“The towel, Bug.” Cayden’s deep voice jerked me from my horror.
“Fine, but it’s just because I don’t want you dripping on the floor,” I sniffed. I didn’t know why I bothered trying to come off as unaffected by him. His eyes told me he didn’t buy my cool girl act. His presence bothered me. I couldn’t hide it. The dream beat at my temples, and my face filled with an unpleasant itchy heat.
Not expecting an answer, I turned and headed for the linen cupboard. It was at the end of the laundry room, past the kitchen. Opening the door, I reached up and grabbed a couple of towels from the warm, lavender-scented space.
I spun around and immediately froze.
Cayden stood right behind me. He’d followed me, and damn closely, at that.
“You didn’t have to come, I’d have brought them to you,” I said, fighting the urge to fidget. God, this was so awkward. “Here,” I blurted and pushed the towels into his chest, escaping around the side of his body.
He had that gift of sucking the air out of the room with his presence. Reaching a far safer distance, I turned and leaned around the counter, watching our new guest. He looked at the towels for a long moment.
“You probably have to take off your hoodie to get dry. If you want, I can put it in the dryer right now,” I told him.
He was still for a long moment, and then he tossed the towels on the counter and reached for the bottom of his hoodie. When he yanked it up, his T-shirt came with it.
I didn’t consider myself a creep, not usually, but right now, nothing could stop me from staring at Cayden’s body. Okay, sometimes it was fun to go and watch hockey practice on the pretense of waiting for my dad, but usually, I wasn’t going just to stare at beautiful bodies.
Cayden’s T-shirt slid up his torso, revealing golden skin and the taut, tightly packed muscles on his abdomen. His long arms bulged with well-defined strength as he dropped them back down to his sides.
But my lust quickly morphed into concern when I noticed mottled purple marks on his torso. Fresh bruises. I gasped, my hand unconsciously moving toward them.
“Don’t.” His voice was like a whip. He grabbed my hand where it grazed his chest, yanking it into the air between us, gripping it tightly. “Don’t touch me.”
I swallowed hard, the serious look in his eyes freezing me to the spot. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing. Cayden had my hand up near his face, my fingers clutched in his. His blue eyes stared down at me, warning me away and drawing me in all at once.
No. I’m not going to be the girl who’s drawn to the broken boy. Nope. I’ve read that story, and it’s not going to happen.
“You’re the one touching me,” I muttered when he continued to hold my hand in a punishing grip.
The hard line of his mouth softened a fraction, and his chest suddenly expanded like he’d been holding his breath. I realized that I had, too, at the same moment, and gulped down some much-needed oxygen.
Cayden squeezed my fingers and made to let go, just as his nostrils flared. My hand was only inches from his face, and in a move that would forever haunt me, he brought my hand to his nose and inhaled.
Heat flooded my cheeks.Holy crap.I rarely bothered touching myself much, seeing as it never went anywhere. This was just my luck. The one night I’d ventured down there, and the very guy I’d dreamed about appeared and sniffed my goddamn fingers.
He couldn’t really smell anything, though, right?You’re being paranoid. Relax.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammered out. I was pretty sure my face couldn’t get any hotter at this point. A curse of being a natural redhead.
Cayden made a noise deep in his throat that was kind of like a growl. Goosebumps rose on my arms.
“The question, Bug, is what haveyoubeen doing?” he mocked quietly.
I snatched my hand from his and stepped back. “I haven’t been doing anything. I was sleeping. It’s three in the morning, in case you hadn’t realized.”
I was doing a great job of coming across like a prim schoolmarm. Cayden watched me with glittering eyes. His T-shirt had fallen back into place, hiding his obvious beating. I didn’t care. If he wanted to hide his injuries and be a martyr creeping around at night, I couldn’t have cared less – so long as it didn’t involve my family.
“Whatever you say. The dryer?” he prompted, somehow embarrassing me even further; he’d flustered me so much, I’d forgotten why we were standing there in the first place.
“Right, the dryer,” I muttered and reached out to snatch the hoodie from his hands. I stuffed his threadbare jacket into the dryer and turned it on. I needed to get the hell away from this guy before I embarrassed myself even more.
“I’ll show you to the spare room,” I said, trying to find something to do with my hands. I grabbed the remaining towel on the counter and started through the room. The house was quiet, but I knew my mom and dad had to be arguing somewhere inside. Clearly, my mom wasn’t happy about a student staying the night. Good. I knew I couldn’t take more than a night under the same roof as Cayden West without losing my mind.
“Here you go,” I said, entering the spare room and hitting the light switch. Warm light flooded the room. “It’s not much.”
“Yes, it is,” Cayden said, so quietly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. He’d grabbed the trash bag as we’d passed the hall and now set it on the desk. Was it his clothes? Why would he have his clothes in a trash bag?
