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“I’ll have Declan help me with it in the morning when it stops raining. You’re freezing, Shilo. Let me get you dry and take care of that cut.”
It’s a terrible idea to get in his car. I know it is. But my jaw hurts from how hard my teeth are chattering, and I can’t feel my toes anymore. So with a reluctant nod, I let him guide me to the passenger seat. He gently pushes me down into the warm leather, shaking out the umbrella before climbing behind the wheel. Heat blasts from the vents, filling the car with welcome warmth, and I sigh softly, sinking into his familiar scent.
He glances at me sideways. “My place is closer than yours. It’ll make more sense if we go there.”
Logically, I know he’s right. My head tells me I should insist he take me home, but my heart has other ideas. I nod weakly and shut my eyes, curling up in the seat as soft music plays through the speakers, lulling me into a fragile peace.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, Ryann’s nudging me awake in the parking garage beneath his building with an odd look on his face.
“You alright?”
Blinking, I nod, rubbing at my eyes before hissing as the jagged cut on my palm flares in pain. “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”
His gaze lingers for a moment before he turns away. “Let’s get you inside.”
The elevator ride to his condo feels endless. I keep yawning, wet strands of hair clinging to my forehead as I fight the urge to lean against him for support. My entire body feels drained, utterly sapped of energy.
When we step into his foyer, I notice the puddle of water forming beneath me. Every step leaves droplets on his marble floors as we move through the living room and down a long hallway. Eventually, he leads me into a spacious bathroom. Why do we always end up in bathrooms?
“I’ll get you something to wear. Take off those clothes and warm up.” Pulling out a towel from the cupboard, he hands it to me before disappearing back into the hall. I watch him go, debating on whether I should do what he says.
Being naked around him is the last thing that should happen right now, but one look in the backlit mirror above a black granite sink has me grimacing. I look like a drowned cat, purple streaks running down the sides of my face and neck from the fresh dye KC just put in earlier.
Turning my back on my reflection, I pull off the soaked hoodie and toss it to the ground with a wet plop before kicking off my socks and shoes. There’s no shirt underneath, so my jeans follow shortly after, and I wrap the soft towel around my shoulders to hide my torso. Luckily, it’s big enough that it almost covers my balls, but it’s not like Ryann hasn’t seen them before.
He knocks on the door a second later, stepping inside with a pair of sweats and a University of Washington T-shirt. “They’ll be loose on you, but they’re dry. Come into the kitchen when you’re dressed.”
Without a backward glance, he leaves again, and I do my best to wipe away the streaks of dye staining my skin before pulling on his clothes. The shirt hangs down to my thighs, and the pants need to be tightened at the waist, but they smell like him. The scent has my stomach flipping, blood rushing south, and before I know it, my neglected dick is stirring to life.
Frickin’ hell.
Cheeks burning, I tuck myself up into the waistband, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I’m hard from just wearing his clothes.
Once I’ve gotten my hair as dry as possible, I pad barefoot into the kitchen. Ryann’s leaning against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug in the dim lighting. When his gaze flicks over me, something shifts in his expression, darkening briefly before he turns away. Whatever that look meant, I don’t have time to figure it out.
“Come here.” He turns on the sink, setting down his mug and handing me another one when I reach him. “It’s chamomile. My mother used to make it for me when I couldn’t sleep. Give me your hand.”
Squinting at him, I take a loud slurp of the tea. “Only if you say pretty please.”
His lips twitch, curving into a crooked smile. “Pretty please, Shilo, let me clean out your cut so you don’t get tetanus.”
Holy shit.
Shocked that he actually said it, I let him run my palm under warm water, studying his profile as he scrubs out the wound. A few days’ worth of stubble dusts his chin, giving him a rugged look amplified by his messy hair.
My eyes greedily take him in, soaking up every detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear jeans before. It’s weird.”
He huffs, keeping his gaze down as he spreads some ointment on my hand. “These are probably the only pair I own. I threw them on quickly when you called. You’re lucky this won’t need stitches.”
His gentle touch sends mixed signals to my brain, each electric pulse skittering from my palm to my toes. As he wraps the bandage around my hand, he rubs it lightly to ensure it’s secure, his face so close now that his breath tickles my nose.
“Are you hungry?”
Yes, but not for food. “I’m alright. Kansas fed me.”
“At least someone did,” he mutters, looking down to where his hand still holds mine. The weight of his tone reminds me of what happened at the gym earlier, and my chest tightens.
“Carpenter is straight,” I blurt out quickly. “At least, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s got a secret crush on Kansas, but I haven’t known him long enough to tell.”
