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Lance jumped up in the bed and licked my face. I rolled to my side to get up, a trick I’d learned in the hospital to avoid pain, and opened my eyes to a towel.
Low slung around Adam’s waist, just covering the apex of a perfect V. My gaze slid up quickly to perfect abs, a carved chest, and those arms I’d already seen. But not like this, all naked together and still wet from the shower, leaning over between our beds to rifle through his duffel bag.
“Jesus,” I exclaimed.
He glanced my way. “Nope, just me.”
I threw him a glare and made a gesture for him to move. “Do you mind? Can you put some clothes on?”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s the plan, sunshine, but showering required a different dress code.”
“Cute.”
I watched him pull clothes from the bag, the ink on his skin rippling his back muscles with every move. “Cute is something I’ve never been accused of,” he said.
I frowned and sat up as Lance rolled over, then I slowly let my legs down. “Didn’t you shower last night when I went to sleep?”
He glanced over his shoulder and paused. “Yes.”
Dumbly, I blinked a couple of times before it dawned on me. My whole upper body went hot, and I felt my face glow. He’d gone and finished himself off in there. Thinking of me? A shot of pure lust hit my belly, especially seeing him like this in the light of day. I’d had that under me, all in my hands, within my touch, and I’d missed out. Not that I hadn’t offered.
“I—I would have...” I began, but my words stupidly failed me as he met my gaze. Wow. When had I become a blushing schoolgirl around men?
Just this man.
“I would never take advantage of a woman in pain,” he said. His eyes dropped to my chest just as my nipples hardened, then slowly slid back up to mine. “I’m good.”
Holy. Crap.
How was I supposed to make it through the rest of the day sitting next to him in the car now? After him searing that visual in my brain?
As if reading the trajectory of my dirty thoughts, he lifted a brow. “Dropping the towel now,” he warned.
I clapped a hand over my eyes, listening to the rustle of clothing and trying not to remember his hand between my legs and his words that shot me off like a rocket.
You’re so fucking wet for me.
“So, do you want to fill me in on that stuff with your dad?” he asked, pulling me back to the present. Which was simultaneously good and bad.
The church was attacked before I was. We’d seen the mess, cleaned it up, and surmised that whoever the second books were for had done it, looking for the money my dad had skimmed. I never thought the “mugging” was about that, but now...
I frowned under my hand. “No.”
There was a pause. “Okay, then want to tell me about playing with matches?”
I sighed, dropped my hand, and was gifted with the sight of Adam Bishop dressed in his standard t-shirt and jeans, but the jeans weren’t zipped yet as he leaned over to lace up his work boots. Sweet baby Jesus.
“It was... a moment,” I said softly.
He stood and met my eyes, raising an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it.”
“A reaction, I guess is a better word,” I added. “To a lot of bad news.” I blinked away. “And too much time in my own head.”
“I get that,” he said.
I looked at him, surprised. “You do?”
I didn’t think anyone would understand what I had done. Deep down, I was a little bit afraid of the part of me that could justify it. Who had I become that doing something like that didn’t feel wrong?
