Page 119 of Five Fingers of Death

“Do I smell that bad?” I jerked out of his arms, immediately aware of how sweaty and gross I was.

But when a small smile graced his lips, I realized that wasn’t the reason he was asking. “You don’t smell at all. I just thought a hot shower might make you feel better.”

He was right. I felt so gross right now, and the idea of walking around like this—still feeling the remnants of my dream—just made it more difficult to move past everything.

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

He stood, pulling me to my feet. With his fingers interlocked with mine, I followed him up the stairs and into his bedroom, careful not to make any noise as I walked past the bed where Carli was sleeping.

“I’ll grab something for you to change into,” he murmured, shutting the door behind me.

I looked around the bathroom, sighing at how masculine it all was. It wasn’t at all like I expected from a man’s bathroom. There wasn’t soap scum in the shower and the toilet was sparkling clean. I didn’t even see any hairs in the sink. It put my own bathroom to shame.

I quickly stripped, shoving my clothes into a pile in the corner, then stepped into the shower. The instant shock of cold water washed away the worst of the nightmare, but it would take more than a dose of reality for me to be able to sleep again.

Sometime during the shower, I heard the door open and close. I figured Jason was leaving me clothes and ignored him as I closed my eyes and let the warm water cascade down my body. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but when my skin started to prune, I washed up and turned off the water.

A pair of sweats and a T-shirt were waiting for me on the toilet lid. Snatching one of the towels off the shelf, I dried off and wrapped the towel around myself, then wiped down the mirror to stare at my reflection. Tonight, I reminded myself of that lost woman on the island—desperate for someone to save her and take her away from the misery of her life.

While I wasn’t quite as skinny as I had been, the lifelessness in my eyes had returned. I just hoped it was only for the night and that I could find a way to pull myself out of this slump. Thankfully, I had an appointment in two days. At least then I could discuss this with my therapist.

I dressed quickly, rolling up the waistband of the pants. They were way too big on me, and the shirt was so large, it hung down my thighs. But it was better than getting back into my smelly clothes. I grabbed everything and opened the door, wondering where I should go. I didn’t think Jason would leave his daughter to bring me home, but I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to walk through the dark to my house.

“Would you mind if I slept on your couch tonight?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, I mind.”

The sharp sting of disappointment barely had a chance to hit before he held out his hand for me. I didn’t understand what he wanted. Surely, he didn’t intend for me to spend the night in bed with him and his daughter.

“I can’t stay in here.”

“Why not?”

“Because…your daughter is there. She’ll wake up and think?—”

“That we had a sleepover,” he finished. “She’s four. Her brain doesn’t think about what men and women do in bed.”

He had a point, but still…

“Come on. I’m not leaving you alone.”

I bit my lip, wondering what his reasoning was. “Is that because you think I’ll hurt myself?”

“Would you?”

I shook my head slowly, already tired of this conversation.

“That’s what I thought. You know, sometimes, a person just wants to help. You look like you don’t want to be alone right now.”

I didn’t. The thought of laying down beside him, even if he didn’t hold me in his arms, was more comforting than anything else I could think of. Decision made, I padded over to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers beside him. It wasn’t that easy, though. My whole body was tense at the thought of laying beside this strong man. Now that I wasn’t a sobbing mess, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be in his arms. But I was positive he didn’t feel the same way. He held me because I was falling apart, not because he wanted to.

No matter what I tried, I couldn’t shut my brain off. I thought about how his arms felt around me and what he smelled like when I woke up. When I closed my eyes, I saw those intense eyes staring at me, searching for answers. And when I felt his arm brush against mine, I shivered from his touch.

What would it be like to have a man touch me again? More importantly, what would it be like to have a man I wanted to touch? Would I ever be able to handle that? Part of me said yes. He’d held me in his arms and I hadn’t so much as flinched. But hugging was a lot different than being intimate.

“They can hear your thoughts in the next county,” he whispered.

I stiffened, wondering if he really knew what I was thinking. No, that was impossible. He couldn’t possibly understand all the crap running through my head right now.

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