By the time I’m done with my hair, he still hasn’t returned, so I reluctantly pull the plug and get out, wrapping my body in the towel. I freeze at the bathroom door, unsure what I’m supposed to do.
I slept in this man's bed. Got sick in his bathroom. Used his tub—probably all before he did.
And now, I’m pretty sure I’m alone in his perfect house, naked and without any of my things. The only clothes I have are what I wore to the bar, but… I don’t want to wear them.
To be honest, I don’t want to wearanything.
What I want is to lie naked in Kade’s bed, and wait for him to find me. To show him how thankful I am for everything he’s done for me. I want to thank him with my mouth and body, again and again, until he understands the feelings I’m too scared to say out loud.
But I’m not brave enough to lay myself out like an all you can eat buffet, especially after the whiplash I’ve put him through.
No matter how badly I want to.
Sighing, I search the room for my clothes, but come up empty. My eyes slide to the large oak dresser across from the massive bed, and I hesitate for less than a minute before sayingfuck it.
I find a soft white T-shirt that smells like Kade and slip it on. It falls off my shoulder and lands mid-thigh. And as a small act of bravery, I forego panties.
After towel drying and finger-combing my hair, I quietly open the door and slip out into the hall. A bang followed by a quiet, masculine curse has my heart racing and stomach flipping.
Biting my lip, my feet pad across the cold, wooden floor toward the living room, eyes adjusting to the warm sunlight pouring in through the wall of windows across the back of the house. There are new, navy curtains pulled over the ones in the front, but it’s still bright.
The scent of something light and earthy fills the air, layered with warmth from the fireplace and the sharp bite of a spring morning breeze drifting in through the cracked sliding glass door.
I freeze when Kade comes into view and just... watch him.
He’s still in his gray sweats and a soft black t-shirt, dark, wavy hair falling into his face and catching in the scruff of his beard ashe crouches in front of the coffee table, setting up what appears to be an entire salon in the middle of his living room.
A diffuser dangles from the end of a blow-dryer, clumsy in his hand as he scowls down at it like it just insulted his beard.
“What the fuck is this thing?” he mutters, face scrunched adorably.
A giggle slips free before I can stop it, and his head whips up, zeroing in on me with unnerving accuracy.
His eyes heat instantly, sliding down my body, lingering on my bare thighs and the long, white T-shirt barely grazing the tops of them. The same shirt I stole from his dresser, the same one I’m not wearing anything under.
The air thickens between us, charged and heavy, and my entire body goes up in flames under the weight of his stare. I shift on my feet, fingers tangling in the hem of the shirt, rolling it between my hands for something to do.
"How are you, darlin’? Feelin’ better?” His voice is gruff and low as he crosses the room in three long strides. When he stops, there's barely an inch between us, and the warmth radiating off his body has me swaying, drawn into his gravitational pull.
“I feel a bit better,” I manage, voice shaky. “The bath helped a lot. Those salts were amazing. Thank you.”
“They’re my mom’s recipe.”
I nod. “I figured. I bet people love them. They, uh…” My cheeks heat as I duck my head. “Normally it takes me longer to feel human.”
“Don’t think she sells them.”
“Well,” I whisper, feeling awkward and raw and so very alive, “she should.”
His fingers find my chin, tilting it gently until I meet his eyes. His thumb brushes my cheek, and everything inside me lights up.
“Love your eyes,” he says. “But goddamn, baby, these fuckin’ freckles. Had me trapped from day one.”
My throat tightens. “You hated me day one.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes dark with something deeper. “Never hated you. Hated how much I wanted you. Hated why you were there.”
I reach up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, holding him to me. “Because… I had to tell you Marlee died.”
