Page 40 of Choose the Bears

“Towels are there. Bedding is all fresh, so you’re good to sleep whenever you want. Mini-fridge down there.” She pointed to where it sat in an alcove by the wardrobe. “If you want a drink or something. Other than that, I’ll leave you to get settled in.”

Ursula was about to leave, but she looked over her shoulder at me before she did.

“My brother, his friends, they’re gonna want to come and find you. They get all overprotective and shit every time, but this time, shit went down in front of them. They’ll want to reassure themselves that you’re OK. I can redirect them if you want, havethem running laps or cleaning shower grout with a toothbrush. You just let me know.”

Somehow she had me smiling. Maybe because I could imagine her ordering the three massive men around with ease, something I frankly envied.

“I’m fine.” If I kept saying that, maybe it would be true. “Really. You don’t need to keep them busy.”

“OK, well, don’t blame me when they all start piling in here. Just maybe don’t let them start playing doctors and nurses.” Her focus slid down to my wounded arm. “You’ve had a rough afternoon. Take it easy on yourself.”

I wanted to protest, to make clear all this was no big deal because I was already regretting coming here. Some part of me felt like this was all too much. Then the dull throb of my wrist reminded me of exactly why I had. She walked out and closed the door behind her, the sharp click making me jump before leaving me alone with the sound of my own heartbeat. Rattling around in my chest, the organ wasn’t so sure we were safe. My eyes flicked about the room, taking it all in, the pretty interior helping settle something inside me right up until the point I felt the grime.

Working all day, breathing in the recycled air of the air-conditioning, always left me feeling kinda grimy, so I grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom. Beautiful, gleaming, and most of all clean, I switched on the shower, ready to get clean. Of course, that’s when I was faced with a struggle.

I couldn’t just get undressed. Phil had taken that from me, and as I stared into the bathroom mirror, I saw my wide-eyed stare. I looked too pale, the skin under my eyes thin and slightly bruised. This was OK. I’d work my way through it, I told myself, then reached for the knot of my sling. A sharp hiss of pain escaped me the moment I tried to move it, because getting it over my head was torturous. I was either trying to duck my headout from under the knot while clutching at my injured hand, the soft brace only partly numbing the pain that caused, or I was jerking the sling up and down and my arm with it, as I tried to get it free. My hiss turned to little noises of frustration, getting louder and louder by the second, but at no point did I think I had an audience. A little tap on the door let me know that I did.

“Imogen…?” I heard Kyle’s voice through the door and froze in a seriously awkward position. “Hey, are you OK?” I wasn’t. Somehow I’d gotten all tangled up, my shoulder muscles aching now. “Look, if you’re alright, I’ll go?—”

“No.”

Where the hell had that come from? Me apparently, because the doorknob twisted and there was Kyle. He took in my dishevelled appearance and his lips twitched, ready to smile, but he smothered that quickly.

“Need help?”

“Does it look like I need help?” I grunted.

Strong fingers pushed my hair aside, the other hand supporting my arm as he undid the sling knot, and suddenly I was free. He kept ahold of the brace as I straightened up. My gaze locked with his, humour dancing there. That was what drew me in, but it was the curious shade of his eyes that kept my attention.

All shades of light brown, gold, amber—they appeared molten right now, the stare going on and on, well past the point of politeness. For some reason, it didn’t get awkward. Maybe because I was starved of positive male attention, maybe because it was Kyle. Because once someone’s listened to you snore all night, all pretence of having it together goes out the window. I didn’t need to with him, and somehow that was a relief.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better.” I took a step backwards then, remembering what I was doing. “I need to have a shower and?—”

“I’ll wait.” He flopped down into the armchair, a children’s book in his lap. “I brought you something to read. The kids like this one and it helps them to get off to sleep.” Kyle looked up at me. “Maybe you’d like the same?”

I couldn’t help but laugh now at the ridiculousness of his offer, but it didn’t stop me from grabbing the supplied PJs. Inside the shower, once the door was closed, it was a different matter. I’d stripped naked and jumped in the shower more times than I could count, but this felt strange. Probably because there was a very attractive man sitting just metres away from me, separated only by a door.

I looked back at the white-painted surface for a moment, imagining what it would be like if I pushed it open. What would he think? What would he do? Part of me recoiled at the idea, especially when I’d had similar thoughts about Asher, but then I remembered. I owed no one my loyalty. I couldn’t cheat on men that weren’t mine, and that had me taking one hesitant step towards the door, my good hand rising. A sharp pain in my bad hand reminded me of how I got here in the first place. I jerked it back down, jumping under the shower stream before I could think twice about it and grabbed the soap.

Chapter 22

Kyle

I owed my mother a big apology.

It was damn lucky I brought this book with me, because right now, it was used as a buffer between Imogen’s eyes and my dick.

Touching her was like sticking a finger on a live wire, electrical impulses coursing through me, but they didn’t make me twitch. Just ache for her. Stroking my fingers through the strands of her hair, ostensibly to find the knot of her sling, then sliding them over the exposed skin of her neck… I wanted to take my time. To map the slope of her neck, learn every curve, every hollow, but instead, I worked the knot free. My hand went to her injured arm, holding it against her chest when I wanted to do so much more.

She wouldn’t need to do anything, an alien voice whispered in my ear. I’d look after her, wash her, dry her, and then get her wet all over again. Something made me think Imogen might like that, the sweet scent of her perfume filling my nose. But I couldn’t. Ursula had had a sharp conversation with us the minute she left our mate with Asher.

“She’s vulnerable right now.”

“I know that.” I was pacing back and forth, my brain racing.

“No, you don’t.” That stopped my feet. I turned around slowly to see Lucas was staring at Ursula as well. “You think you do.” I knew that stance, the way her arms crossed. It was the same look she gave us when she was about to square off on the sparring floor. “But you don’t. Being here, watching so many women come through those doors in various states of pain, tells you what to look for, but…” I watched her blink, then swallow, the confident—no, cocky—woman I’d known since high school disappearing momentarily. “That’s not the same as feeling it. You need to be careful.”

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