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He shut down and dismounted, leaned against the bike. “You should stay with Rand tonight.”
She glanced back at her brother, settling himself in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, and shook her head. “No, he needs his own time. He’s lived with me and this whole nightmare for too long.”
“Rie, I… it’s not right. I don’t trust myself. What happened back there—you didn’t need—”
“What happened is that you saved me, Jake. You brought me back from that dark place and you showed me what I was living for. Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”
38. Survivors
Back in her suite, Rielle left him with a pink sunset for company. Once she’d asked him to stay, she made it impossible for him to leave. But he was unsure what she needed from him, the distraction of a lover or the care of a friend. Jake didn’t think it should be possible to separate the two, but that’s what she’d wanted from him: one not the other, lover not friend, distraction not companion, and look where that had gotten them. He’d been no real help to her when she needed it and even his white knight act was tarnished by his raging lust for her.
This wasn’t purgatory; this was hell.
He took a beer from the bar and chased it with another. He might have had a third but she called him from the big marble bathroom.
She was sitting on the wide bench, the mirror at her back. She looked exhausted. He didn’t know how she was still awake. “Can you do something for me?”
He stayed in the doorway. “Anything.” Everything, if it would make up for how he’d violated her trust.
“Help me undress.”
He nodded, stepped into the bathroom and went to his knees to start with her boots. Her hand played in his hair. Once the boots were on the floor with her socks, he stood, unsure what to do next.
“My shirt.”
He unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it back from her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it to the floor.
“My jeans.”
He unhooked her belt. She was watching him carefully, eerily calm. He undid her zipper and she shifted so he could pull the jeans over her hips and down her legs. He kept his movements efficient, clinical, avoided touching her unnecessarily. Now she sat in her underwear. He’d let her manage that. He turned away to start the rainwater shower.
She called him back. “We’re not finished.”
“Baby, you should take it from here. Let me get the shower ready.”
“We’re not finished.”
He went back to her and stroked his hands down her arms. He sighed. She didn’t know what was good for her. He wasn’t good for her right now, except to put her safely to
bed, alone. He’d watch over her, but he needed to keep his distance. “What do you want me to do, Rie?”
“Undress all of me.” She pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “I want you to see all of me.”
Her underwear left little to the imagination. “I see you, Rie. But I did the wrong thing by you and I need to—”
She shushed him with a kiss. He let her touch his lips with hers, but didn’t respond.
“The real me, Jake.”
Her words made his body stiffen with incomprehension. His “How?” came out hushed, almost reverent.
“My jewellery.”
Okay, he could do this. He removed her rings, her wrist cuffs and earrings and eased the glittered stud from her nose.
She handed him a cotton ball. “My makeup.” She gestured to the bottles of lotion on the shelf and he frowned. Her makeup was industrial strength stuff; except for her lipstick it didn’t kiss off, sweat off, wash off or come off on the pillow.
She laughed softly. “It’s not that hard. Start with my eyelashes.”
