Page 40 of His Gift
"Then we'll bring home the leftovers. Stop being contrary. Relax. Enjoy."
I drag a long breath. "I'm sorry. You're right. Here I am, yapping about not being able to eat them all, while you can't eat any."I've been a bit of a bitch.
"That's not what I meant." Conrad moves his chair closer, his thigh brushing mine, and runs his thumb over my cheek. "I'm simply saying you're wound tighter than a spring. From what Agent Vance said, it will be a while before things calm down. You have to take it easier. By the way, have you reassured the poor woman about me?"
I chuckle softly. "The poor womanknows you stalked me until you found me, but yes, she also knows you're here because I want you to be here."
"Good. If she's smart, it means she'll keep you safe. Now, let's order."
The tacos are as glorious as promised. Carnitas, spicy shrimp, even a surprisingly delicious roasted vegetable one. I eat too many, considering the knot of anxiety still twisting in my gut and the lack of exercise in recent months.
Conrad sips his dinner and watches me eat with that intense focus of his, like I am some rare and fascinating creature. It’s unnerving and… oddly comforting. I missed it.
“You’re quiet.”
I shrug, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Just… processing.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I hesitate, picking at a stray piece of cilantro on my plate. “Everything, I guess. You being here. What Irene said. The fact that I actually enjoy those damn tacos.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Enjoying things isn’t a crime, Harper. Even with me around.”
“No,” I concede, meeting his eyes. “It’s not. It’s just… a lot.”
He reaches across the small table, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of my hand. A jolt, familiar and welcome, shoots through me. I don’t pull away.
“I know,” he says, his voice even softer now. “And we don’t have to… process it all here. Or tonight.”
I swallow, the lump in my throat making it difficult. The warmth of his hand is spreading, chasing away some of the chill that has settled in me since Irene’s visit.
“Maybe… maybe we can just go back. I'm exhausted.”
Conrad signals the waiter for the bill, his eyes never leaving mine. I don't know if it will happen tonight, but at some point I will have to face the conversation I've run from for so long. As he said before, though, I can't lie: I'm happy he's here.
"You must let go of your clothes if you want to shower, Harper."
I clutch at them harder. "I can shower by myself. There's the seat you put in, and I can—"
"It's not about what you can do. It's about what you need. Now, let me get you naked. I know your body, Harper. Quite well, I might add. It makes no sense being shy now."
It makes no sense. He's right. And at the same time, he hasn't seen me since the accident. He hasn't seen the scars left by surgery. Or the addedweight. But in the end… maybe he'll see I was never what he thought I was? Maybe…
"We never set rules about you staying here."
"I'll be on my best behavior. Won't even take my clothes off."
"What?"
"Come on." Seizing my moment of confusion, Conrad slips the dress off my body. "Here. Time to hop in the shower. Seat, and then you can finish undressing."
Fine. There's usually no way to make him see reason. "I prefer to use my crutches. Since you can't be convinced, we'll be faster."
I enter the shower that Conrad has already turned on and he follows me. With his clothes still on.
"You are a bit out of your mind, aren't you? Now, take off my underwear and let's be done with this. And for the record, I'd have been more comfortable with a nurse."
No reply from the obsessive guy, now soaking wet, but he takes off my bra first and then slides my panties down my legs. I'm not exactly in the condition for a hot session of sex, but the man always stirs something inside me. Maybe I don't stir anything inside him anymore. He's running his hands over my scars and the traces of my weight gain.
