Page 99 of Wild Side
I get another nod, though her mouth doesn’t move. Her hair and her arms hang limp at her sides. She looks so defeated, and it fucking kills me.
I look away, focusing on the button on her jeans. When my fingers pop the metal open, her hand moves to my head, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
I’m not brave enough to look up at her, so I stay focused, even though the tips of her fingers trail through the strands of my hair.
My digits curl over the waistband, and I tug.
Her other hand falls to my hair as I peel the sopping denim from her hips. A plain black thong has never looked so appealing, but I ignore the stirring beneath my waist—and the way her hand slips down my neck to grip my shoulder. I tap her inner thigh when I get the pants low enough, and she lifts her foot for me to pull the jeans clear. We repeat the motions on the opposite side, her hands roaming more freely as I do.
I swallow before finally looking back up at her. Now her dark eyes are swirling, and there’s a light flush on her previously pale cheeks. Her palms slide back, cupping my head as her fingers continue twisting in my hair.
I don’t know how long we stare at each other, but it’s just vulnerable enough to make my heart race.
Eventually, she breaks the silence with a thin sounding “Thank you.”
It’s my turn to only offer her a nod. I don’t trust myself to speak at the moment, so I just press a quick kiss to her hip, right where the strap of her panties hugs the bone. Then I move on quickly, reaching for a towel, drying every inch of her. Her skin, her hair, all the way down her legs. I move over the top of her underwear, not willing to cross that line at a moment like this.
Once she’s dry, I push to standing and lift her small frame into my arms before striding from the bathroom.
I need to get her tucked in before I do something stupid. Like look too closely at the swirling heat in her eyes, kiss her, or peel her flimsy underwear off her body. This isn’t the time or the place—hell, there might never be the right time or place. But I’d rather live with knowing that than thinking I took advantage of a fragile moment.
Her bedroom door is open and the bed perfectly made. I hold her flush with one arm as I reach forward and turn down the sheets. When I place her down on the mattress, she sighs and her eyes go heavy. I lift the down-filled duvet over her, trying notto gawk at how fucking beautiful she looks in the warm glow of the small bedside lamp.
Unable to resist, I run a palm over her hair. She stares at me with that same look from the bathroom, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it means.
All I know is no one has ever looked at me the way Tabitha Garrison does.
I clear my throat as I pull away, towering over her. “You rest. I’m going to go clean up. I’ll let you get rid of the underwear.”
Her lashes flutter in a languid sweep, fingers wrapped around the duvet as she tugs it up beneath her chin. Her lips pop open, and my brain can’t fucking handle it. Sordid images crash through my mind. Me crawling in with her. Making quick work of those flimsy panties. Sliding down her body.
I spin away from her, giving my head a hard shake as I leave. I go straight for the bathroom. With a click, I lock the door and strip the wet clothes from my body, each piece landing with a sopping sound. My dick is at half-mast when I ditch my boxers.
“You’ve got the self-control of a gnat, Dupris,” I mutter to myself as I bend to lift our soaked clothes from the floor. After I make a big wet ball of them, I march out into the hallway and make my way to the basement where I can start the laundry.
Agitation lines every motion, my feet landing on the floors harder than usual. I open the door at the top of the stairs with a forceful yank, my hand flicking at the light switch like it’s done something to offend me.
I’m grumbling under my breath as I stomp down the wood steps into the concrete-covered basement. But when I turn to face the space, I freeze in my tracks. Water from the clothes held against my naked body drips onto the bridge of my left foot as I stare.
My room is… not the same. New bedside tables flank a matching bed frame, with deep maroon sheets and perfectlyplump pillows. A large rug softens the floor. There appear to be photos propped on the framing. There’s… I don’t know. It’s cozy and warm and full of love.
Someone who cares put together this room, and it makes my heart fall hard on a heavy stutter step. No one has ever put a room together for me.
But Tabitha did.
CHAPTER 34
TABITHA
I didn’t wantto get out of bed, but I also didn’t want to lie there in wet underwear. The discomfort had me kicking back the covers and leaving the bed behind.
And the view down the hallway kept me from returning to it.
Because when I walked to the hamper near my open bedroom door, I got an eyeful of Rhys.
Naked Rhys.
Firm ass, trim waist, hair on his legs, tattoo-covered Rhys.
