But I know that’s not true.
I tell myself a lot of things, and not a single one of them prepares me for what happens next.
Because ten minutes later, a fucking spider lands near my toes in the shower. I scream and run out of the bathroom.
There’s a crash.
The door slams open.
And Derek Fields storms in like a man possessed.
I don’t think. I move.
My shoulder slams the door. The lock snaps, and I stumble inside, heart in my throat, ready to rip through whatever monster made her scream.
But the only monster here is me, because standing in the middle of the room is Annabelle, wet and naked.
Jesus.
Steam curls around her like a dream made of light and silence. My brain short-circuits, and my body doesn’t get the memo. I freeze, every instinct going haywire as water traces her curves, worshipping her.
My lungs seize.
“Derek!” She lurches back, arms crossing over her chest like that’ll fix the damage already done to my memory. “Turn around!”
I spin so fast, I nearly dislocate something. My eyes snap to the ceiling like it’s got the answers to life’s most important questions, but it’s too late. I’ve already memorized the entire beautiful fucking view.
“Right, sorry!” I grab a towel from the back of a chair and hold it out blindly behind me. “Here.”
My heart’s pounding for a hundred reasons I can’t name. Or maybe I just won’t let myself name them yet.
Silence. Then the soft rustle of fabric, and her whisper.
“You can look now.”
I turn slowly. Carefully.
The towel wraps tightly around her frame, and I lock onto the way the fabric clings to her hips, the rise and fall of her chest, and the damp ends of her hair curling against her skin.
My hands twitch.
I take a step closer before I even register it. Then something dark scuttles across the floor. Annabelle lets out a strangled squeak and practically levitates into me.
I steady her and fight a grin. “That scream was for our charming roommate, I take it?”
She glares toward the bed. “There was a spider in the shower too. And that…thing.”
I nod solemnly toward the floor where the cockroach vanished. “Motor-Inn’s unofficial welcoming committee.”
She shudders and her eyes dart back to me like I’m the only stable thing in the room.
“You’re coming with me.” I reach for her.
“But my stuff?—”
“I’ll get it tomorrow.” I lift her into my arms, towel and all. She stiffens, then melts as if her body is remembering the exact way we used to fit.
Her arms loop around my neck, and her breath ghosts across my throat. The heat of her, the scent of soap and skin—it all hits at once.
