Page 35 of Falling for His Best Friend

His bare knees brushed against hers as she turned to him and pulled the plastic bag over his splint. They’d sat like this plenty of times before, but never in a bedroom. It had never felt this intimate before. She covered his arm carefully, her fingers light on his skin as if she was afraid to touch him, afraid of what that might lead to, and secured it with the tape.

‘Can you manage everything else?’ she asked, hoping he would say no but half-wishing he’d say yes. Wishing he’d make the first move, take the first step and take the decision away from her. If he made a move she knew she wouldn’t resist. She wouldn’t have the willpower.

‘I can.’ He was watching her carefully, his blue eyes dark, making her breath catch in her throat. Was that sleep or desire turning his eyes indigo?

She knew she should get dressed while Joe was in the shower but she couldn’t seem to make her legs move. They were heavy and uncooperative, so she stayed sitting on the bed.

‘Kitty? Can you give me a hand?’ She heard the shower stop running and heard him call to her.

She went into the bathroom.

Joe had managed to remove the plastic bag that had protected the splint from his arm and was now, very definitely, completely naked. Kitty could feel her blood pounding in her veins. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find, but she hadn’t prepared herself for this. She felt like she knew him so well yet she’d never seen him completely naked before.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately—she wasn’t certain yet—he had his back to her. His shoulders were broad and tanned and she could see the outline of his trapezius muscles above his shoulder blades and the ridge of muscle running down either side of his spine. She wanted desperately to run her fingers along his spine, to trace the length of his body, but she had to be content to savour him with her eyes instead. Her gaze trailed down to the cleft between his buttocks. His backside was firm, muscular, nicely rounded. Two perfect globes, slightly paler than the rest of his skin but not much. His buttocks looked smooth and cool, like marble, and her fingers itched to run over his skin, to feel it under her palm.

He was holding a towel in his left hand, obviously unable to wrap it around himself with only one hand. She reached for the towel, resisting the urge to reach for him, and took it from his fingers. From behind she reached around him, wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking one end into the other over his left hip. It seemed such a pity to cover up the view. But then he turned around. Now she was face to face with his naked chest. This she’d seen before, many times, but somehow today it seemed far more intimidating.

She’d rested her head against that same chest on plenty of occasions. She couldn’t count the number of times he’d hugged her, but she couldn’t recall him ever hugging her shirtless. She didn’t think she’d ever been this close to his bare chest before and she was copping an eyeful—a very attractive eyeful. His chest was still damp and little droplets of moisture glistened on his skin and caught in the fine hair that ran down between the ridge of his abdominals.

The air around them felt positively charged, making it difficult to breathe. Maybe it was just the steaminess of the bathroom. The hot, humid air was heavy and it was an effort to breathe it in. She was feeling a little light-headed. She needed to get him dry and dressed and get out of there.

She stepped back and her eyes dropped lower, down to where the trail of hair disappeared beneath the towel. Her eyes caught on the waterproof dressing above his right hip. The dressing that covered the knife wound. The wound he’d got protecting her. She wondered if he thought it was worth it.

‘I would,’ he said.

She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. His blue eyes were dark, his gaze unwavering.

‘Would what?’ she asked.

‘I would do it again. To protect you.’ His voice was deep, quiet, intense and honest, and his words sent a shiver of anticipation and excitement through her.

She dropped her gaze again, needing to break the spell, and reached out and traced the edges of the dressing with her fingers. His skin was warm. That surprised her. She’d expected it to be cool by now. The warmth of his skin made her fingers feel icy in contrast, and she could see little goose-bumps rising on his stomach, heard him catch his breath.

‘Sorry, are my hands cold?’

‘No.’ His voice was husky now and his eyes an even more intense blue.

Her hand stilled as she looked up at him. Everything about him looked hard and intense—his body, his gaze, his intentions, his need, his desire—and Kitty’s heart pounded in her chest. Her breath caught again in her throat.

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