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Her breathing had evened out, and when she started to slide into the water, I caught her arm. Sure, touching her when she was naked wasn’t my first choice, but I couldn’t let her drown.
Perhaps I should have woken her, but she slept so rarely and so fitfully, I just couldn’t bring myself to do so. I slid my arm behind her, hooking my fingers around her side beneath her opposite arm, careful not to let my touch wander to anything less innocent. This kept her upright enough so she didn’t drown.
It also meant that sometimes, as she breathed deeply, her breasts rose out of the water and into view.
And damn, did her pink nipples tempt me. They seemed to tease me, just begging for attention, like two flowers floating on top of the water.
Stop it, you pervert!No matter how much I scolded myself or tried to look away, however, I couldn’t stop the way my brain stayed locked in that cycle.
Finally, when I feared my self-control wasn’tnearlyas good as I would have liked, I gave in.
I shook her arm, but she barely woke at all. Was she really that tired?
Giving up, I grabbed my robe and used it when I hauled her out of the tub. I didn’t bother to get her arms into the sleeves, using the robe instead like a large towel. Her hair was dry since she hadn’t taken a full shower, and the terrycloth robe soaked up most of the water on her skin.
The idea of taking her back to her room hit me, but then I thought about running into anyone else. She was naked and vulnerable, and I found myself reluctant to let anyone else see her this way.
Which was silly.
Silly or not, though, I couldn’t seem to let go of that. Instead, I tucked her into my bed. She’d slept here that first night, and since then, the room had felt far too quiet, far too lonely.
Which was strange, since I’d never thought of my life in those terms before. Being alone had been normal to me, comfortable, so why did solitude bother me now?
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. Her hair was braided back, as she often left it when at home, but strands had escaped from the rest and fallen into her face. She looked even younger when asleep, even more innocent of the world around her. How could she sleep so comfortably with me around like this?
Why wasn’t she awake? Watching me to ensure I didn’t harm her?
Because she is a fool.And it sure lured me in…
I sighed, then went to rise, to leave her be. A good night’s sleep would help her feel better in the morning, and there was no good reason for me to remain.
Before I could stand, however, Kenz shifted, wrapping an arm around me as though I were a stuffed animal, and she didn’t plan to let go.
Any resolve I might have had fled at that, at the way even in her sleep she seemed to instinctually crave contact and affection. It made me wonder just how starved for such things she really was.
So I did the dumbest thing I could have—I turned and stretched out beside her. I pulled the blanket over her—no need to tempt myself more than I already was—but stayed on top of it myself.
She scooted closer, nuzzling against my chest as if there were no better place in the world for her.
And me? I was the idiot who wrapped an arm around her and closed my eyes, savoring the chance to feel warm and comfortable, no matter how short that time would be.
Chapter Five
Kenz
I reached above me and stretched, the tight muscles in my back loosening. The sun beat down, but somehow, it felt nice. Maybe it was because I’d spent far too much time inside, so now I welcomed even this heat.
After spending all morning sketching with no notable progress, I’d decided a little time outside was exactly what I needed. I had my headphones on, music playing, as I weeded the small plot of flowers in the backyard.
I’d never seen any of the men out here, which made me suspect they hired a service. Of course, given how overrun with weeds it had gotten, the service hadn’t come in a while.
They probably stopped it when I came to live here.
Yet another way my presence was interrupting other people’s lives. Instead of letting that get to me, I pulled another weed out then added it to the bucket I’d set beside the raised bed.
One of the things I’d learned over the years was that just plugging along wasn’t the best way to deal with something. Too often we ended up focused on what needed to get done, and the ways to do it would escape us. The fact was that when I hit a wall, the best way to keep going wasn’t to keep slamming my head against it.
So instead of sitting there, staring at bad sketch after bad sketch, I’d taken myself outside.
