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“Travel a lot, do you?”
“I do.” She cleared her throat. “I should get going downstairs and out of your way.”
She untangled their hands and slipped by him. By the time he had his head out of his ass, she had vanished.
“Good job, asshole.”
He glanced at his hand and smiled as he realized she’d jetted with his Leatherman. How was it this one woman continued to turn his world on its axis? Going to his cell phone, he scowled when he realized there wasn’t any signal.
Had to happen sometime and it was probably going to be sporadic until they got out of this current situation. He wanted to head downstairs and be around Hope but he made himself stay in the room. Working until lunch, he had just stored the computer when the door opened after another soft knock.
Hope poked her head in and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Apologies. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“This is your room as well, Hope. You don’t have to run away because I’m here.” He rose from the table and strode toward her.
Now that she was right there, he couldn’t maintain the distance. His body fucking craved to be closer to her.
“How are you feeling?” He gave in to the urge and moved some of her curls behind her ear.
There was a flash of heat in those eyes he couldn’t stop thinking about. She gave a small shrug. “I’m okay.”
He wasn’t. Eyes drifting down to her plump lips, he smothered the groan punching at him to escape.
“Let me change your bandages.”
Mitchell had expected an argument but was shocked when she responded.
“Okay.”
…
If there was a photo by the word insane it would be hers. Why else would she be subjecting herself to this? Hope didn’t need him to change the bandages on her forehead. She was capable of standing before the mirror and handling this on her own.
But his offer had come and she hadn’t been able to say no.
Weak. I’m so weak.
And she didn’t care. For the moment, she longed to be weak and seek protection and shelter from someone stronger. No, not someone—Mitchell.
She didn’t speak as he led her across the floor of the smaller room to the bathroom. Much like they’d done when she had removed his splinters.
“I…I have your Leatherman.” She licked her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it with me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
She stiffened and reared from his touch. Did he think she was stealing his things?
Mitchell grasped her chin and clucked his tongue. “Bad joke. It’s my turn to apologize. I know you had no intention of walking off with it.” He peeled off the first bandage then gave her a smile. “I was trying to figure out if you wanted to return it to my pocket so you had that excuse to put your hand in my pants or if you were distracted by me when you ran.”
Heat surged. She licked her lips and noticed how his gaze tracked the action without even attempting to hide it.
“Why are you so set on the untruth of me running from you?”
He held her stare as he pulled off the second bandage. “You’re the one who leaves this room, not me.”
She poked him in the chest, frowned, and did it again, testing the firmness. There wasn’t anything soft on him, while there was more than enough on her. “I was trying to be respectful and give you space.”
He inched closer, pushing her finger more against his rock-hard torso. Totally unfair. Did he have any part of him that wasn’t hard and attractive?
“Maybe space from you is the last thing I want.” His gaze blazed down at her.
God, this wasn’t proper. Her legs trembled and she was positive he could hear how hard her heart was beating.
“Thought we established that I’m not the kind of woman that’s in your life.”
He clenched his jaw but his touch was infinitely gentle as he cleaned the cut. The silence stretched as he put on two more bandages.
“We did no such thing.” His voice was low and rich, the perfect pairing to his masculine scent.
The urge to lean the rest of the way and bite his lower lip smacked her hard and she had to self-correct. “Really? Because that’s not how I remember that talk going.”
“Want to have it again?” He dipped his head so they were nearly nose to nose. “Because I remember you shutting down and giving me your back in our bed.”
Our bed. God, the thought made her shiver. If only. If. Only.
Maybe he had a point. But that didn’t mean she wanted to relive how much larger her size was versus the other women she’d seen by his side. She’d not lied to him—she was confident with her size. She was the size she was, and she didn’t strive to become a single digit clothing-wearer. She wasn’t unable to move about and do things because of her weight. Hope lived an active life, was in shape, and according to her doctor, was in incredible health. She simply didn’t have a skin-and-bones body type.
