Page 36 of Yours Truly, Fall

“It’s . . .” I pinch my eyes closed and try to find a clearer reason to stay, but I know nothing can justify what I’m doing other than purely selfish excuses. Is this so horrible if he wants this as much as I do?

Stop, Autumn, my angel whispers faintly from my shoulder.

I lean into the sparks left in the wake of his fingers as they trail down my outer thigh, shamelessly burning for more. Equally reckless, I remain right where I am, watching his lips part and his tongue dip out to glide over them. “Is this okay?” His deep tone is even more seductive under the circumstances.

I take an urgent breath before weaving my fingers into his hair again. “I think we should rinse you off.”

A wry smile replaces his tongue, and he stands with my wrist still in his hand. Turning me with him, he drops his head back, letting the water cover his head again. Eyes closed. Mouth open. His skin is so tanned from summer as if he spent every day outdoors. My mouth manages to go dry despite the mugginess enveloping us.

Taking a folded washcloth from the built-in shelf, he pumps body wash onto it and rubs it over his chest. With his other hand spreading the soap over his skin, he holds the cloth out for me. I’m presented with the wall of muscles of his backside when he peers back over his shoulder, and asks, “Do you mind washing my back?”

“I . . .” I’m standing there at a fork of knowingly crossing lines or trying to hold on to the last shred of my dignity. He doesn’t make the decision easy. I shake my head and grab the soapy rag. With only the wet fabric between us, I touch the back of his neck, gently working the soap into his skin, in awe at the thick bundle of muscle under my hand. As I drag it slowly down his side, my nipples harden and my breath shallows. He’s hard everywhere, and even the bruises covering his shoulder are framed in exquisite muscle. My core pulses in response, my need growing deep inside me. I swallow hard as a low groan escapes him. “Does this hurt?”

“No. I like it.”

I want to smile, but his response has me so turned on I can't reply. I want him, but my emotions are so twisted I can’t think straight. “I need to leave.” A deep-seated confession of mine as much as it is for his benefit.

I push the door open when his hand wraps around my waist, sending goose bumps across my flesh. “Wait.”

I pause, leaving room for guilt to slip into the space between us, and whisper, “I shouldn’t have—” Stepping out of the shower, I close the fogged glass door behind me.

I want to stay. My whole being wants this. He not only makes me weak in the knees but also in my willpower. I’m not skilled enough to play this game.

Stepping out of that shower will undoubtedly be one of the greatest regrets of my life. But hey, some of my dignity is still intact.

Now . . . standing mostly naked and dripping wet on his bathroom mat, what am I going to wear?

CHAPTER 16

AUTUMN

“What about these?” Amusement dances in his eyes, making it hard to look away. Brandon being shirtless again with basketball shorts hanging low from his waist doesn’t hurt either.

With a terrycloth towel wrapped around me twice, I stand at the side of his bed while he presents options for me to wear. Scanning the oversized sports jersey that would fit me like a dress on the bed, and pivoting my gaze to the “Property of Mountain Laurel Cove Football” tee that’s not much shorter on the chair, I end back up on the boxers and white tank top in his hands. “I’ll try those.”

I reach out to catch the clothes he tosses my way, but the towel slips, so I grapple to keep it around me instead. My cheeks heat as the clothes fall at my feet. With a huff, I pick them up and head for the door to change in the other bedroom. “I need to go home tomorrow for more clothes.” I stop in the doorway, though, thinking about what good I’m really doing here. I think that’s a conversation we should have when I’m dressed.

“We can wash your clothes.”

“It’s okay. I have a rotation of colors all planned out. It’s no big deal to get them in the morning.” As soon as I close the door, I drop the towel and slip on the boxer briefs. Even with the waistband rolled down, the fitted-to-his-thighs fabric only hangs loosely over mine.

Was it wise to wear my bra in the shower? Nope, but I had no choice. He needed help, but as I slip the soft striped cotton of the tank over my chest, it rubs gently over my nipples that still ache to be touched . . . bit . . . appreciated at the very least. I’m beginning to not even recognize myself around Brandon. This is unfamiliar territory for me. I haven’t felt strongly for someone in so long, I didn’t think I had the ability anymore.

It’s not unsettling. I’m relieved to feel alive once again, even if he’s off-limits. I know that part of me, my sensuality, isn’t dead. Thank goodness!

But right now, this magnetism between us needs to be put on the back burner. When the job is over, maybe, just maybe, we can explore something more personal. This is not the time.

Keep things light, Autumn. Amicable and on topic. My assistance in his healing is at the top of the list of priorities. Remember that tomorrow.

It’s late enough to get ready for bed. I brush my hair and then my teeth. I’d like a glass of water, but there have been enough entanglements with Brandon for one day. I don’t want to open another Pandora’s box with him. I climb into bed and switch off the lamp. Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling until my eyes adjust to the dark.

No sounds are slipping under the door, and no night owls hoot outside. It’s quiet. Too quiet. When I close my eyes, I can hear the water kissing the coast of the cove at home. The creak from a sister sneaking around on our old wood floors. The pipes running when someone turns on a faucet or flushes the toilet. The muffled sounds of the TV on downstairs when Dolly falls asleep watching it. So silence is rarely a thing I experience at home.

I’m undecided if I like it or not. Maybe it takes some getting used to.

Glancing over at the time, thirty more minutes have passed with me staring at the ceiling. The silence overtaking my thoughts is making me restless. I flip the covers up and slip my feet to the floor. Dropping my head down, I rub my forehead, feeling tired and dry. “Water.” I get up and quietly turn the doorknob.

Looking right, I can’t hear Brandon sleeping in his room, but there are no lights on either. To my left, it’s dark other than the moonlight that drifts through those large windows in the living room. I sneak down the hall to the kitchen, padding across the living room when I hear, “No good night?”