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Instead of pushing her away, though, he leaned his head to one side. “Take all of me you need, sweetness.”
She breathed him in, pressing her face into that space he’d created. Oh, he was so warm. And he smelled so good.
Unlike her.
She had to stink. And she didn’t care what he said. She had to go have a shower.
So move off him.
“I need to have a shower.” She forced herself to get off him.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know what she wanted. That was the problem.
* * *
Hack saton the edge of her bed, running his hand over his face.
Greer was currently in the shower, and he was just sitting here with no idea what to do next. Should he move into the other bedroom? Give her space?
Urgh . . . he wasn’t usually this indecisive.
The water stopped running and he stood. He shuffled from foot to foot.
Talk about awkward.
The door cracked open. “Hack? Are you there?”
“Yep. Did you want me to leave? Or do you need something? I can get it for you.”
Could he stop rambling like an idiot? Would that be too much to hope for?
“Um, I was . . . I don’t have anything to put on. Could you find me something, please?”
“Of course.” He glanced around but he didn’t want to go through her luggage. So he grabbed his knife and moved back into his room. Tucking the knife into the drawer of his nightstand, he grabbed a clean T-shirt. It was so big it would work like a nightgown.
Without thinking too much about why he wanted to see her in something of his, he moved back to the bathroom door.
“I’ll set it down out here, then go wait in my room. Come in when you’re ready. If you want.”
Stop rambling, dickhead.
He headed back into his bedroom to wait.
“Um, thanks for getting me this,” she said a few minutes later.
Turning, he saw her standing in the doorway. Her long, thick dark-blond hair was pulled back into a braid with just a few wisps around her face. His T-shirt was huge on her. More like a dress that nearly fell to her knees. It was far too wide as well.
Yeah. He felt a surge of satisfaction in seeing her in his clothes.
“You’re welcome, Sugar Plum,” he told her.
“Will you not need it tomorrow, though?” She was rubbing her fingers over the T-shirt. Over and over.
“No, I’ve got plenty of clothes. I’ll be fine.”
They stood staring at each other.
