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He jolted his head toward me. His eyes roved my bare legs before he returned them to the cupboard.
“No coffee,” he grunted.
I leaned against the fridge. “Want me to go get some?”
“I should get you back to the hotel.”
He stormed past me and stomped up the stairs. I followed, this need to comfort him overruling everything else.
Holt closed the bathroom door, but I caught it just before it shut. If he noticed, he said nothing, simply shed his underwear and turned on the shower. He stepped inside the small stall without letting the water warm.
I stripped his T-shirt over my head and shimmied out of my panties.
What are you doing, Baker?
I straightened my shoulders.
What I want.
Holt started when I stepped in behind him. I yelped when the ice water hit my feet.
“Get out, Easy, if you don’t want anything to happen,” he said, voice low.
“Have you been with anyone besides me since you’ve been back?” I pushed around him so I could see his face. Cold spray hit my back. I hissed, but stood my ground. The image of that woman fought to the front and center of my mind.
I shoved it down.
Lifted my chin.
Waited for him to answer.
“No.”
I splayed my hands on his chest. He turned us and backed me against the wall, caging me in.
“Haven’t wanted to either.”
I swallowed hard. “The way you touched her—”
“I know what it must’ve looked like, but I was trying to get her away from me. I want nothing to do with her and told her as much.”
The steel behind his words made me believe him. I knew as well as anyone how being caught in the wrong moment could make someone look guilty, even when they weren’t.
"I believe you."
“That’s the past I didn’t want you to see. I want to forget it. Forget her.”
“Then let’s forget,” I whispered, cupping his face with my hands.
He stared at me in disbelief. Wiped away a lock of hair matted against my forehead. “Why would you do this for me?”
“I’m doing it for me too.” We both deserved to feel good, even if it was only temporary.
His lids drifted closed, and he shuddered. He traced my face with his fingertips, down my neck, shoulders, arms. Memorizing. Because this was it.
The last time.
“So fucking beautiful.” He hadn’t opened his eyes.
