Page 77 of The Pretender

She glanced down to the soggy clothes and the mud that once caked her bare knees but was starting to streak down her legs. Her hair hung around her face and strands kept blowing into her mouth. The pouring rain made it worse every second.

“How could she be offended by that?” Rage still made Harris’s voice rough around the edges, but some of the stiffness in his body eased.

“I’ll check everything we’ve collected in the morning.” Damon looked at Harris. “Do you have a weapon with you?”

Harris nodded. “Of course.”

Of course. At this point, lie or not, she was happy he wasn’t an art appraiser.

“I need a shower.” She sighed as she picked a leaf out of her hair.

Harris squeezed her arm. “I’ll help with that.”

“What if the attacker comes back?” she asked, unable to fight off the shiver that ran through her at the thought.

“He wanted you alone or you snuck up on him by accident.” Harris’s gaze didn’t waver as he stared at her. “Either way, he’s not making another move tonight.”

“Unless he wants to be shot,” Damon added.

Their conviction diffused the new wave of panic before it could take hold inside her. “The guy touches me again and I’ll pound him with a shovel.”

Harris winked at her. “I do like your style, Gabby Wright.”

Chapter 21

She stood there, drenched and uncharacteristically shy as she curled her bare toes into the bath mat. Cold, wet, shaken but not broken. Never that.

Harris shut off the water faucet for the bath. He wasn’t really a soak-in-the-tub guy. He showered. Did his business and got in and out. It was a practical exercise. But Gabby needed something else tonight and he was going to give it to her.

“You need help taking your clothes off?” God, he hoped she’d say yes.

She didn’t need sex right now and he wasn’t a fucking animal, but he did want to hold her. Feel her skin against his.

The short PJs set stuck to her skin. His sweater had been soaked and now stretched to twice its size. Pretty soon she’d be able to wear it as a dress. Her hair was plastered to the side of her head and the longer she stood there the more she shook.

He needed her in the warm water, but he had to get her attention first. He lowered his head to try to get her to look at him. “Gabby?”

She finally looked up with a glassy-eyed stare. “What?”

Yeah, not good.

“Baby, get in the water.” The endearment came out of nowhere. He pretended it didn’t happen.

She nodded. Without talking, she stripped off the sweater. It landed with a weirdsplunksound when it hit the tile. A wiggle of her hips and she shimmied the wet shorts and underwear down until they pooled at her feet. She stood there in that wet shirt. It clung to every curve. Her nipples pushed against it. He was about to reach for her, to do something, when she lifted that last piece up and over her head.

In just a few seconds, the clothes lay discarded all around her. Big clumps of soggy material. She didn’t do anything to hide from him, either because she was dazed or because she felt comfortable. He hoped the latter explained it. He loved the idea of her being calm and naked in front of him.

She leaned over and dipped her hand in the water. Her arm shot back. “Too hot.”

He could see the goosebumps on her arms and the way she rubbed her legs together as if trying to get warm. She might think it was too hot, but she needed it. “We’re going in.”

Her eyes focused. “Both of us?”

“Is that a problem?” He wouldn’t go near her if she preferred to be alone. He’d fucking hate it, but he would give her whatever she needed. For a guy who never gave a shit how other people felt, all he cared about was making her happy right now.

She bit her bottom lip as her gaze traveled all over him. “In that?”

It was his turn to look down. His jeans encased his legs and his gray T-shirt fit him like a second skin. “Is it okay if I take my clothes off?”

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