She didn’t even realize she’d moved until she felt his arms around her. Kane pulled her in, steady and warm, holding her like he had all the time in the world. She wrapped her armsaround his neck and buried her face against him, sobbing into his shoulder.
“I don’t think that’s what she’d say,” Kane murmured, rubbing slow circles on her back. “I think she’d tell you she was okay… and thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Monica squeezed her eyes shut at his words, trying to stop crying, only to cry harder.
“And then,” Kane added softly, “if she were anything like you, which I’m guessing she was… she’d tell you to shut up and grow a pair.”
Somehow, she cried and laughed all at the same time. Pulling back, she wiped her nose and eyes with the back of her hand. “You really are a nice guy,” she said, breath stuttering.
“I have my moments,” Kane said, brushing away one last tear with his thumb. He moved a strand of hair from her face, his eyes sweeping over her… lingering on her lips for half a second longer than they should. And God, she wanted him to kiss her. Why, she didn’t know, but she did. She felt such a damn pull to him.
“You’re exhausted,” he said finally, pulling back. His voice had dipped lower, rougher. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah, okay,” Monica said, trying not to let the disappointment show. She pushed herself up too fast, stumbling, but Kane was already steadying her with a hand at her waist.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m a klutz when I’m tired. Come on, I’ll show you the room.”
“I’m fine, Monica,” Kane said, already shifting back toward the chair. “Go to bed.”
“No, I will not,” Monica shot back, planting her hands on her hips. “My momma raised me better than to let a guest wander around without a place to lay their head.”
“I don’t sleep,” Kane replied with a half-grin.
“Not even a catnap here and there?” Monica frowned, still trying to wrap her mind around that. Sleep was basically her superpower.
“Nope.” Kane glanced at her. “And what exactly is a catnap?”
“I don’t know. I’m a dog person,” Monica teased, then bent to pick up his bag and almost dislocated her shoulder. “Holy crap, what do you have in here?”
“Clothes,” Kane said with that cocky little smirk, taking the bag from her like it weighed absolutely nothing.
Monica snorted but didn’t argue. It wasn’t any of her business what he had in his bag. Her traitorous eyes flicked to the muscles in his forearm, the way they barely even flexed under the weight of his overstuffed bag. When she looked back up, he was already watching her—waiting on her to move, to lead the way.
Cursing under her breath, she turned toward the stairs before she embarrassed herself any further and openly stared at his crotch. Good Lord, she was a mess.
The stairway was narrow, opening into a short hallway with the bathroom straight ahead and bedrooms on each end. She veered left, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. Her gaze landed on the small bed, way too small. He’d never fit in that thing.
Her brain, being a traitor, instantly gave her a vivid image of Kane stretched out naked on that mattress… on top of her. She froze. The mental slideshow replayed itself a couple of times before she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will it away.
“Damn,” she whispered, trying to shake the picture out of her brain.
“What?” Kane’s voice was suddenly right behind her, close enough that his breath brushed the back of her hair.
“What!?” She jolted so hard she nearly knocked herself over, spinning around, looking at him wide-eyed as if she had just been caught doing something naughty.
He just stood there, one thick brow arched with those gorgeous golden eyes framed by lashes entirely too long for a man. And of course, he was staring at her like he could read every inappropriate thought she’d just had.
“ I-uh—I was just thinking you’d never fit in that bed,” she blurted, her mouth suddenly bone dry.
“I don’t sleep,” he reminded her, giving her that slow, sinful grin as he brushed past her, his body grazing hers on purpose or by accident, she couldn’t tell.
“I just… haven’t met anyone who doesn’t sleep,” she muttered, as if that explained her meltdown. Truth was, it had nothing to do with remembering. It had everything to do with hiding the fact she’d just pictured him naked for no good reason other than her brain hated her.
He dropped the bag on the mattress and turned. She caught herself staring at his shoulders before jerking her eyes away and stepping out into the hall.
“And this is the bathroom,” she said, trying to regain some dignity. “Full shower. You do shower, right?” she added, raising her brows because apparently she was determined to self-destruct tonight.
And then, just because her imagination hated her, another image slid into her head—Kane, naked and dripping wet in her shower.