In seconds, she was by his side, offering an assist. At his front door, she asked, “Alone?”
“Last I checked. Door code is 9998.”
She tapped it in, the dead bolt clicked open, and they went inside. Lights illuminated the foyer, triggered by the motion-sensor system. The security alarm started beeping and he punched in the code to silence it.
“Let’s get you into the shower,” she said.
Once upstairs, he dropped the blanket onto the marble floor. After flipping on the faucet, she ran her hands down his chest. “You’re an ice cube. Turn around and let me check you for bruises.” He studied her in the mirror as she gave him the once-over.
“Like what you see?”
“Meh,” she replied with a gleam in her eyes. “Do you think you’re concussed?”
“No.”
“We should have you checked.”
“I’m fine.” He stepped into the doorless shower.
As the hot water blasted him, he inhaled slow, deep breaths. Crashing into the water had shaken him. To steady himself, he placed his palm on the cold marble, lowered his head, and let the water tumble down his neck and back. And he tried letting the anger spiral down the drain, but it clung to him like a second skin.
The fury he carried around with him had been reenergized, ignited by his strong desire for revenge. Anger was a powerful weapon. For most of his life, it had been his first line of defense.
How can I hunt down Uncle Charlie if I don’t know even who the fuck he is?
After a few quiet minutes, she asked, “Feel any better?”
He opened his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair. So much beauty and strength stared back. She had risked her own life to save his. And she had been fearless. Absolutely fearless.
“Yeah.” When he stepped out, she wrapped a soft cotton towel around his waist. With a second towel, she patted his face dry, then his chest and back. Her tender touch soothed his tormented soul.
In the middle of this shit storm, she’d become his beacon, guiding him toward calmer waters. Unable to resist, he pulled her close, dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I love your touch, the way you take care of me.”
“Don’t read anything into this.” But the concern in her eyes defied her words. Per usual, her walls were up. “I did what anyone would have done in an emergency.”
“I’m grateful you were there.”
“Me, too.” The energy between them was palpable. Despite the danger he’d just faced, he wanted to love her in his bed and hold her close all night long.
He needed to push past her walls—maybe even drop his own—and show her how much he cared about her.
“I should go, so you can rest.”
Her raw words were as biting as the icy waters he’d been thrown into. “I’m making us hot toddies and you’re going to have one with me.”
“I…uh…”
“Evan, was that an accident or did someone try to kill me?Youare the perfect person to help me figure that out.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Her beautiful smile was like the sun bursting through the clouds on a dreary day. “I’ll take that drink.”
She glanced around his bedroom while he threw on cotton pants and a T-shirt. Having her in his home, and especially in his bedroom, felt damn good. Sinclair didn’t date. He bedded women who threw themselves at him. And not a single one ever got invited into his home. Bringing them there would send mixed messages. He wasn’t about to get pinned down. He didn’t want a commitment. He wouldn’t allow himself to care.
But with Evan, he wanted her by his side, in his home, and in his bed.
They returned to his spacious kitchen, the one he rarely used. While waiting for water to boil, he got out the honey and lemon, then called a towing company to haul his bike to his mechanic.
He made their drinks, handed her one of the mugs. Her fingers trailed his before she took it.