Water beat directly downon me from the giant rainfall shower-head, the temperature one click away from scalding. I’d been in the shower for what felt like a full hour, telling myself I’d leave once the tap started to run cold. But my fingers were pruny and it was still hotter than a geyser. Graham must have a fantastic water heater.
A fist rapped against the door — three hard knocks that made me jump. My eyes cut across the steam-filled room in terror. He wasn’t about to burst in here, was he?
“I’m naked!” I screeched, scrambling to cover the bits of my flesh I wasn’t altogether eager for Graham to see.
“That an invitation?”
“Only if you have a death wish!”
His low chuckle was muffled by the door. “Relax. I was just checking to see if you were still alive in there. Glad to know I won’t have to deal with your waterlogged corpse. It’s been a long enough night already.”
I scowled at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be out soon.”
There was a long pause. “There are towels in the cabinet beside the tub. Spare toothbrushes in the drawer under the sink. Use whatever you want. I’ll leave some clothes for you to sleep in by the door.”
Swallowing against the sudden lump in my throat, I croaked out a thank you and turned to press my face against the tile wall.Hellfire. That was actually kind of… thoughtful. I much preferred it when he was rude. It was easier to deal with him.
I pressed my face harder, wishing I could hide out in the shower for the rest of the night. Or possibly for the rest of my life. But I’d already shampooed, deep conditioned, and scrubbed my body head to toe twice, using a liberal helping of Graham’s expensive body wash. Any more exfoliation, I’d look like a piece of sandpaper when I finally rejoined the world of the living.
With reluctance, I reached out and shut off the valve, stopping the steady flow of water. I found the towels right where he said they would be and dried myself off, my limbs moving at a pace that would impress a sloth as I dabbed water droplets from my skin, then wrapped it around me in a tight sarong. In the drawer beneath the sink — which, like the rest of the loft, was freakishly organized — I found a spare toothbrush still wrapped in plastic and a hairbrush. I made unapologetic use of both.
The mirror was fogged over. I wiped a small window away, so I could see my face. My skin was pink with heat and softened by the steam. My auburn hair was a shade darker than usual, still damp from the shower. There were deep bags beneath my eyes. Still, I looked significantly better than I had the last time I caught my reflection.
Cracking open the door a sliver to peer out, I found the kitchen beyond encased in darkness. Only the light from the dying fire in the grate illuminated the loft, warm flickers of red and yellow that danced across the heavy beamed ceilings and textured brick walls. Graham was nowhere in sight, but my eyes fell on the stack of clothing he’d left for me on the threshold of the bathroom. I snatched it and slipped back inside to get dressed.
The t-shirt fell well past my thighs, more dress than top. The sweatpants were laughably large on me. I rolled them several times at the hips, but they still pooled at the ankles, inches of excess fabric dragging on the floor with each step.
Oh well.
I wasn’t walking in Paris Fashion Week. And it was either this or my own grimy outfit — which I had no intentions of ever letting touch my flesh again. The bloody, torn tights were already wadded into a ball in his trash bin.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I shut the lights and slipped out the door. My footsteps were silent as I made my way through the kitchen. I set my bundle of dirty clothing on the countertop where Graham had left my other belongings, and bent to set my boots to the floor. Rising back to full height, I nearly screamed when I saw a mammoth shadowy figure standing less than a foot to my left.
“Hellfire! You scared the bejeezus out of me!”
Graham’s grin was a flash of white in the darkness. “Sorry,” he said, sounding not the least bit remorseful.
“It’s bad manners to sneak up on people.”
“Occupational hazard. I’m used to moving in silence.”
My head tilted as I eyed him, vision slowly adjusting to the darkness. He’d changed into sweatpants that matched the pair I was wearing — dark grey, hanging low on his hips. He was shirtless, his broad chest on full display, his abdominal muscles defined in eight distinct indentations, the v-cut lines somehow even sharper than they’d been during his teenage Lifeguard God tenure.
Christ.
I sucked in a breath and forced my eyes not to wander south of his chin. “Can you put on a shirt?”
“Babe, the pants were a concession. I usually sleep naked.”
My eyes bugged out. “If you’re trying to entice me to sleep here, it’s not working.”
“If I was trying to entice you, you’d know it.”
“From the nauseated sensation?”
His head tilted down, stopping dangerously close to mine. “You can talk as much shit as you want, smartass. You’re still sleeping here, with or without my enticement.”
“What are you going to do if I try to leave? Tie me to a chair in your basement?”