My body reacts before my brain catches up.
Of course he gave me his clothes.
Because my options were the blood-stained outfit I died in or whatever he could pull from his own pack. And of course, he knew I would come in here before I even did.
This man is prepared for everything.
And I am honestly so grateful for that right now, but I would never tell him that.
But knowing him, he probably already knows.
Asshole!
Half an hour later, I push open the bathroom door, freshly showered, dressed in his hoodie and flannel shorts with the drawstring pulled as tight as it goes, which is still not tight enough, and a soft gray shirt that falls to mid-thigh.
Rogue is in the hall.
He looks up.
And then he goes very, very still.
His eyes drag over me once, slow and unmistakable, taking in the oversized hoodie swallowing my hands, the bare stretch ofmy legs beneath the hem of the shirt, the fact that I’m standing in his clothes looking like I belong in them.
Heat flashes low in my stomach so suddenly it almost knocks me off balance.
Something moves across his face before he locks it down again, quick enough that I almost miss it.
Almost.
“They fit,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I anticipated.
His gaze flicks back to mine, but not before it drops once more, enough to make that strange pull between us spark hard beneath my skin.
“They fit,” he agrees, voice lower now.
The air between us tightens, so I pull the hoodie sleeves down over my hands mostly because I need something to do with them and look up at him. “Thank you… for thinking of it.”
His eyes hold mine for one dangerous second too long.
“Go to sleep, Charlotte.”
“That’s not ayou’re welcome,” I sass, because the alternative is standing here reacting to him like my body’s forgotten how to behave.
One corner of his mouth threatens to move. “Go.” He steps aside from the doorway, jaw tight now, like putting distance between us has become an active effort. “Sleep.”
I brush past him toward the bedroom, and his hand catches mine for half a second in the narrow space between us, skin against skin, and the reaction is immediate. A sharp spark tears through me, hot enough to steal the air from my lungs. My body jolts around it instinctively, every nerve ending suddenly awake, the pull between us surging hard enough to feel physical.
Rogue goes still behind me.
Not frozen.
Aware.
I feel it in the sudden tension that snaps through him, the hitch in the air between us, like both of us are registering the same thing and neither one knows what the hell to do with it.
His fingers loosen immediately.
Too immediately.
