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The Veronica he loved.
He wanted to capture this moment forever, to keep it safe in his heart.
Her eyes met his, and although she stopped laughing, her expression was still soft and filled with joy as she gazed at him.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
“Found Rebel.”
“I see that.”
Rebel barked, and Veronica turned back to her, kissing the top of her head. She shut off the water and stepped carefully out of the shower stall, reaching for a towel.
Connelly couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her shorts were tiny, cupping the globes of her ass in a way that made his mouth water. The light gray t-shirt was soaked through, making it clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric, and suddenly his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He wanted to strip her out of those wet clothes and lick away every drop of water clinging to her skin. He wanted?—
Rebel shook, splattering everything with water, and it was all he needed to snap out of it. He dropped his gaze to the tiled floor.
Fuck. What was he thinking? This was Veronica. He’d known her since they were both in diapers. And he knew what she’d gone through. He shouldn’t be thinking about licking her anywhere.
But he was, and that was a problem he needed to deal with before her scared her away.
He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice light as he said, “And I see you’ve found another friend.”
Veronica finished toweling off Rebel and grabbed a second towel for herself. She used it to dry off her face, then wrapped it around her hair.
“That’s Alfie,” she said, reaching for the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door.
Connelly fisted his hands at his sides and waited for her to put her robe on. She was moving too damn slowly, and he wasn’t going to be able to process anything she said until she was covered. He wanted to touch her, hold her, kiss her. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to the bed so he could kiss every inch of her body. He wanted...
Everything he couldn’t have.
Not with her.
Veronica gave him a curious look. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.” Jesus, why did his voice sound so strangled? “I’m fine.”
“Because you kind of look like you’re constipated. Did you…” She glanced back at Alfie, who was still sitting on the toilet. “Need the bathroom?”
He had to get out of this small room. Because under the scent of wet dog, he could smell her, the clean scent of her skin mixed with the fruity aroma of her shampoo. It was driving him insane.
“I’m good,” he forced out, stepping back to let Rebel out of the bathroom. “Just relieved you found Rebel.”
At last, Veronica wrapped the robe around herself and tied it closed. “I actually didn’t find her. Hank Firestone did, and he brought her home. She stunk, so I gave her a bath.” She picked up the small dog from the toilet and nuzzled his big ears. “And he brought me Alfie. This is—” She stopped short, and her smile faded. “Was. This was Dr. Firestone’s dog. He’s therapy trained and used to attend all of our sessions. Hank can’t take care of him—too many bad memories, I guess—and so he thought Dr. Firestone would want me to have him. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I want to keep him. I’ve always adored him, and he’s... good for me, I think.”
Connelly stared at her in shock, his lust forgotten. “Vee...”
She tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. “What?”
“I think that’s the most you’ve said to me since I arrived.”
“What?” she said again and gave a nervous little laugh. “That’s not true.”
“You’ve mostly just told me to go away and leave you alone.”
She hugged Alfie closer to her chest. “I’m sorry.”
