Page 92 of Peace Under Fire

She stopped moving to stare at him. Had he just offered to shower with her? “Uh…no.”

He shrugged, and she could swear disappointment crossed his face before he turned away.

Don’t be an idiot, Mandy. That’s the last thing he’d offer. Don’t go reading more into his comment than he intended.

She made it into the bathroom on her own and wallowed beneath the steam and heat before sluggishly washing her hair and skin. It wasn’t until she stepped out of the shower that she realized she’d forgotten to bring in a change of clothes. The thought of putting on the shirt and pants she’d spent the past twenty-four hours in—that she’d gotten drunk in—filled her with revulsion. So, a towel it was. Her bedroom wasn’t far from the bathroom. If she was quick, he wouldn’t even see her.

With one towel wrapped around her hair and another covering her torso and upper thighs—barely—she opened the bathroom door. She was already on the move, hoping to sprint to her bedroom without being spotted, when she slammed into Jacob.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs and the towel from her head. The important towel, the one covering all her sensitive bits, untucked and started to slip. With a desperate grab, she anchored it in place, although it was sagging now, riding dangerously low across her breasts, creating a—sadly—deceptive amount of cleavage.

She was so concerned with stopping the towel from exposing all her womanly charms, it took her a moment to notice that he’d grabbed her shoulders. By the time she did notice, or rather felt the heat of his hands sizzling on her bare skin, fiery tingles had swallowed the spot and were blazing across her body like a hot flash.

Good God. She glanced down. Yep, the tops of her breasts were all rosy and dewy. With luck, he’d think it was because of the shower.

“Sorry,” she squeaked.

“You were in there so long, I got worried that you’d passed out.”

His voice was guttural, raspier than she’d ever heard it. She glanced up at his face—his rigid face.

There was something about the hard set of his jaw, and his hoarse voice, and the way his eyes had darkened to obsidian that sparked against every nerve in her body. If she got any hotter, she’d burst into flame.

“I’m fine…just fine…perfectly fine…” she babbled as she sidled to the left.

His fingers tightened and she thought she heard him mumble “No shit” before he let her go. She scurried down the hall and dove into her bedroom. Once safely inside, she shut the door and leaned back against it.

Man, she was turned on. Really turned on. Like a bazillion degrees on the thermostat kind of turned on. In other words, horny as hell. She might be a virgin, but she recognized this jittery heat. Not to mention the tingles and butterflies. Had he noticed? She rolled her eyes at the stupid question. Of course, he’d noticed. The man was a SEAL, for God’s sake. He noticed everything.

Maybe she could plead the flu, a hangover, and COVID and self-isolate in the bedroom for the rest of her time here.

She changed into one of the pairs of sleep shorts and tank tops that had been waiting in her bedroom at the Refuge upon her arrival. There had been other clothes as well. Jeans, slacks, sweats, sweaters, a collection of bras (in various sizes) along with panties and socks. Everything fit surprisingly well. Mandy was almost certain the items had come from Alaska—even though the other woman steadfastly denied it.

Her dirty clothes were still in the bathroom. She considered going back out to grab them, but the thought of running into Jacob in these skimpy shorts and thin top kept her in the bedroom. The material of the tank top was so delicate, her hard nipples were clearly visible, a sure sign of how turned on she was. Jacob wouldn’t miss that. No way. Her dirty clothes would have to wait.

It seemed to take forever for the heat and hunger running through her veins to dissipate. Her skin was so sensitive, even the silk of her shorts brushing against the insides of her thighs sent prickles of desire to her overheated core. She considered using her fingers to get herself off and drain the sexual energy. But the worry that he might hear something and guess what she was doing kept her fingers at bay.

For the rest of the afternoon, she avoided him by napping. It was amazing how exhausted she felt.

By the time a forceful thud hit her door, her stomach was getting noisy again, but with hunger, rather than nausea. According to the alarm clock on the nightstand, it was seven p.m. No wonder she was hungry. Twenty-four hours had passed since her last meal.

“Alaska delivered dinner,” Jacob said without opening the door.

He probably wanted to avoid a repeat of the bathroom incident.

“Is she still here?” Mandy asked. If Alaska had dinner with them, she’d blunt some of the tension in the room.

“No. Brick’s taking her out.” He paused. “Date night,” he added, with no inflection in his voice whatsoever.

In fact, his voice was so neutral, Mandy was certain he found the whole “date night” thing between a committed couple difficult to comprehend.

Mandy frowned and fiddled with the comforter. So, it would be just her and him, and the memory of her in nothing but that stupid towel.

“Come on, you need to eat.” His tone slipped into something vaguely cajoling. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You were completely covered.”

He was right. She did need to eat. In fact, her stomach was insisting on it with every gurgle. Besides—her shoulders pulled back—she had no reason to be embarrassed. She hadn’t blundered out and exposed herself on purpose. It had been an accident. Up went her chin. If he hadn’t been stalking her, and planted himself in front of the bathroom, she wouldn’t have run into him. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d showed him anything…sensitive. And come to think of it, he could have averted his eyes at any moment.

“Be right there.” Her chin still high, she climbed off the bed.

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