Page 65 of The Savior

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Liam made his way to the bathroom with a small smile he couldn’t shake off his face. Chelsea had jumped, and he’d never pictured her as… cute.

And that she was. Very cute, in a jumpy, sweet, sexy kind of way that he should ignore since it made her uncomfortable. Hell, it did him too, but in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe in a way he wasn’t supposed to feel again.

He squinted, not having thought about dating since Julia. Was a year long enough? Who set the rules when it came to next steps?

He entered into the bathroom and breathed in the citrus-warmed air. Humidity hung from Chelsea’s shower, and while the fog on the mirror had faded, moisture shadowed the glass with iridescent patches.

Liam stared at his reflection. Maybehewas the one to make up the rules.

Or maybe he should chill out. He was only there to enlist Chelsea’s help.

“Focus,” he said, then flipped the hot water on in the shower.

Three bottles were decorated with lemons and flowers, each with a slightly different label—shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. They were the source of the lemons and lavender scent that had driven him to distraction. Now they gave him the mental image of Chelsea rinsing suds from her body.

He’d never make it through the day if he didn’t stop the explicit thoughts. He stripped and pulled the curtain back then caught himself because there was no way he could use her lemon-colored plastic poof. A washcloth would do fine.

After a quick inspection in a cabinet and under the sink came up empty, he checked a tall, skinny closet to the side of the shower. A quick perusal showed towels, which he grabbed,handtowels, and more poofs.How many poofs does a woman need?But no washcloths.

A plastic closet organizer with drawers sat on a shelf, and he pulled the top one open—hair crap—then shut it, checking the bottom one—“Oh, damn!”

A bottle of lube and a thin pink vibrator. He slammed them away. The plastic drawer organizer pushed far into the closet.

Cringing, he tried to move it back. The last damn thing he needed was for Chelsea to think he’d snooped.

To hell with the washcloth. But he couldn’t let go of the image of the vibrator. He entered the shower as his erection thickened and let the water spray his face. Closing his eyes didn’t help.

What does she think about?

He puffed out his cheeks and blew into the water. Why couldn’t he let it go?

Liam adjusted the temperature until the water was nearly too hot, and he gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have imagined. But God help him if he didn’t wonder how soft the insides of her thighs might be.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He pulled out of the scalding water and pressed against the cool tile, unable to tone down his arousal.

Why is Chelsea different now?

She’d always been attractive with a heavy curtain of dark hair that hung around her face, but he’d never wondered how the strands would feel.

Her lips had always been the same shade of pink. But now he wanted to feel them against his own.

Nothing had changed about Chelsea overnight.

Not in the last week or over the last year.

Hewas the one who had changed.

Hell.Liam growled and grasped the bottle of shampoo, needing to do his business then escape the bathroom. He shampooed as quickly as he could manage then used her soap to wash, praying that if he was the one to smell like a bowl of lemons and flowers, his reaction to Chelsea’s scent would wane.

He showered off then turned the water to cold, holding himself there until he had to get out. Liam took the added step of reciting the names of every ugly, hairy, dirty, and disgusting dude he’d ever had the misfortune to smell, whether in boot camp or a cramped plane, so he could finish the afternoon without a hard-on.

Still, that wasn’t enough to calm down his curious, horny mind.

Liam wiped a streak through the steam-covered mirror and told himself, “Everything will be fine.”

It had to be. If he couldn’t concentrate while they planned, the closest thing he’d ever had to a family would be at risk.

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