His fingers were warm, his touch gentle and unhurried as he worked the gauze around my hand.
“Okay,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s done.”
I stopped myself from taking a step forward, but the sudden distance when he’d been so close felt wrong.
“Lea?”
“Hmm?”
I blinked, then looked down at where Beau was delicately holding my hand. It was covered in gauze, and against hishands with all those freckles, my hand looked like a boring, blank canvas.
His hands were as big as mine. Soft, too.
“You might want to take it off later today,” he suggested, and when I raised my eyes to his face, he was beet red. “Or I could get you a wet cloth instead, if that’s too tight or hurts. Does it hurt? Do you need some?—”
I pulled my hand from his and laughed, ignoring that it was a little shaky. “No, no, it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry.” I raised my clean hand and pressed it gently against his cheek for a brief moment. “Thank you, love. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
His lips parted the moment I touched him, and shy, timid Beau was back in full force again.
“I’ll be right back. Help yourself to the coffee, but definitely pour it with the lights on!” I headed down the hall and waved over my head without looking back. Neither of us laughed at my poor attempt at humor.
In my room, I let out a long breath and stared my bed. The faint scent of fresh laundry and coconuts still hung around me.
What the fuck was I doing? What the hell was happening to me? I had never been like this before. I mean, yes, I loved sex, but I wasn’t some sex-starved maniac that couldn’t control himself around anyone. The way someone smelled wasn’t enough to get me going. The husky tone of their voice was a nice touch, but it never got me this hot and bothered.
I wanted to throw myself on my bed and sulk like a teenager in despair, but instead I did something I hadn’t done in years—I got fully dressed in my own apartment.
7
LEA
Nothing was working.
Trying to put Beau out of my mind only made me think about him even more.
The longer he lived with me, the more I felt this need to be near him, to talk to him, and…
I wanted to touch him.
I was enamored with his blushes and his shy glances. He made me want to wrap my arms and legs around him and cuddle him aggressively.
Like an affectionate alligator roll.
Would he laugh if I did that? Or be freaked out? I wasn’t sure I’d heard him laugh yet, now that I thought about it. I wanted to know what it sounded like. With that deep?—
“Hello? Lea?” Monroe waved his fingers in front of my face.
I blinked, then snapped my teeth playfully at his fingers. “What?”
“I think the glass is full,” he said wryly. I looked down at the pint glass in my hand, overflowing with frothy beer, and quickly released the handle of the tap.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for a towel. I’d been annoyingly distracted all day.
“And what the hell happened to your hand?”
“Ah, well, all I’ll say is don’t pour coffee in the dark. Then you’ll find out that you’re lacking some very pertinent first-aid knowledge.”
The look Monroe gave me told me he thought I was as weird as I felt. “Did you hit your head?”