I don’t think I imagined the smirk in her voice. I finished showering in blessed silence. At least the cold water had taken my mind off Beckett.
Dammit. Now I was thinking about him again.
Powerful thighs. Lean hips. Abs I wanted to lick clean…
I swiped my finger over the keypad to turn off the water. The spray fizzled to a stop, and a fine mist fragrant with eucalyptus and lavender released into the air. I stepped out of the shower onto heated tiles and wrapped myself in one of the world’s fluffiest towels.
A girl could get used to this.
I made myself at home in Beckett’s luxurious bathroom. I discovered he used eye cream, sunscreen, and leave-in conditioner. His shaving gel smelled like a walk through a cedar forest, and he had an entire drawer full of new toothbrushes.
Either he was big on oral hygiene or he had lots of sleepovers. The thought of another woman in Beckett’s bathroom left a nasty taste in my mouth. I ripped open one of the toothbrush packages and scrubbed my teeth.
I slicked lotion on my skin, combed product through my hair, and dabbed cream that probably cost more than a month’s rent under my eyes. When I finished, I felt like a pampered princess.
A girl could get very used to this.
Wrapped in the towel, I hesitated before getting dressed. I was too clean to wear yesterday’s underwear, so I went without. I glared at the scrap of silk and lace.
When I was little, I’d crashed on my bicycle, and every time I’d walked past the bike in the garage I relived the accident. When I looked at those panties, I remembered the craziness at the bar. I scooped them up and shoved them in the trash. Might as well add the bra too. They were a matching set that I’d blown a lot of money on, but I never wanted to wear them again.
I promised myself a trip to Mossy Oak’s finest boutique on my next payday. I’d buy something sexy that made me feel strong and beautiful. Perhaps in white—Beckett’s favorite color.
I dressed in the borrowed clothes and dried my hair as best I could with the towel. On my way back to the bedroom, I walked past the open door of Beckett’s closet and paused.
I might need a sweatshirt. Especially since I’d gone braless. If I got a little cold, or if Beckett looked at me a certain way with those smoky brown eyes, there would be no hiding the high beams.
I poked my head into the closet and flipped on the light. A petite blonde woman stood across the room. She had a cloud of wet hair curling around her shoulders, and she wore pink sweatpants. I blinked and recognized the orchid blossoms inked on my left arm and the pirate ship belonging to Princess Alaura of Marlydia on my right. It was me. And I was wearing pink sweatpants.
I did not wear pink, but if I did, it would be fuchsia.
My gaze drifted from my reflection to the custom shelves and cabinets built into Beckett’s closet. The man owned more clothes than a department store. There was an entire wall of shoes that looked identical from afar but upon closer inspection had subtle differences.
I ran my hand along a panel of silk ties arranged by color and pattern. I imagined Beckett getting ready in this closet, selecting a suit from the dozens that marched across the back wall, checking his tie in the mirror.
I plucked a pair of tortoiseshell glasses from a display case and set them on my face. My reflection in the mirror became a huge pink and white blob. I pulled the glasses off and blinked to clear my vision. Beckett hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was blind without his glasses.
The drawers lining the walls were sleek and knobless. I pressed my hand against the flat surface of a drawer and it slid open soundlessly. Beckett’s collection of socks filled the drawer. I picked up a pair of turquoise socks emblazoned with unicorns and laughed.
Beckett always dressed impeccably. Every hair in place. Every detail down to his watch and glasses on point. Beckett’s suits were the epitome of sophistication, but his socks looked like he’d bought them at a gag gift store. Each pair was more outrageous than the next. It made me wonder what his underwear looked like.
Ashamed that I was even considering snooping around in Beckett’s underwear drawer, I replaced the pair of socks and pushed the drawer closed.
I crossed the room to the casual section of the closet and ran my hand down a stack of neatly folded cashmere sweaters. I remembered the feel of Beckett’s hard body beneath the soft fabric of his sweater when he’d held me in his arms.
My chest ached, and I rubbed a palm over my heart. I felt funny, but not the same funny that I had felt earlier when I thought I would get sick on Beckett’s luxurious sheets. This was more of a tingle that started in my chest and bounced through me, pinging every nerve along the way.
Maybe I was hungry.I couldn’t remember my last meal. I should be starving. The thought of searching for a bite to eat in Beckett’s kitchen didn’t excite me nearly as much as the thought of finding him. Where was Beckett? And where was Aslan?
The traitor. Who would have thought Aslan would choose Beckett over me?
I grabbed a sweatshirt and went in search of Beckett and my favorite rescue dog.
Chapter 15
I found them in Beckett’s office.
I pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and saw Beckett sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He was bent over his keyboard, a pair of headphones covering his ears. Aslan lay at his feet in a plush doggie bed. His tail thumped when he saw me, but he made no move to get up.
