Page 22 of Tangled Up

“Taking you to clean up.” Walking down the short hall, I step inside a bathroom. “Here.”

Placing her on her feet, I take a washcloth from the rack and hold it under the faucet. The dress slides down her hips, and she puts it on the counter.

She takes the cloth from my hands. “Give it to me.”

I do as she says, sliding my finger along her smooth arm once more before turning to clean myself up. When we’re finished, I take her hand, leading her back down the hall to the kitchen. Our bare feet make soft sounds on the smooth, sand-colored travertine floors.

It’s warm, and I release her as I go to the cabinet. “Dad had the caretaker stock the fridge for me. No idea what’s in there.”

“How’s your dad?” She asks as if it’s a required question.

“Same as always.”

“That sucks.”

She opens the stainless-steel door, and I chuckle as I take down a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew. “I see a melon tray, and… Oh, a charcuterie board!”

The cork pops, and I pour two glasses of Pinot Noir. “Open it.”

Stepping to the bar, I see she’s slipped the short-sleeved button-up shirt I wore on the drive down over her shoulders. It’s unbuttoned, so I get a teasing glimpse of her body underneath. I’m not hungry for food anymore. I want to fuck her all night, then I want to love her all day.

She puts a cube of cheese in her mouth, chewing a minute before taking a sip of wine. She isn’t meeting my eyes, and I don’t know what she’s thinking. Is she sorry she came here? Reaching out, I take a cube of cheese as well and another, bigger sip of wine.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Her eyes move up my arms and over my shoulders as she studies me. “You’re bigger.”

Shrugging, I take a step closer to her. “I’ve been working out.”

“You must work out a lot.” Lifting her hand, she traces a finger along the line of my muscles. “You’re buff.”

“Buff?” I laugh softly, catching her hand and pulling her to me.

“It looks good on you.”

“Leaning down, I trace my nose along her cheek. “You look good.” God, I want her in my bed so bad.

She lifts her shoulder and takes a step back, shaking her head. “I need to go.”

“Why?” My stomach twists, but I have to ask. “Are you seeing someone?”

She cuts her pretty eyes up at me. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s been seven years.”

“Are you?”

“I asked first.”

Shaking her head, she’s not teasing anymore. “No, Beck. I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t seen anyone since…”

She doesn’t have to finish.

“I’m not seeing anyone either.” Reaching out, I slip my hand inside the shirt, my fingertips tracing her waist. “I haven’t seen anyone in a long time.”

She steps away, wrapping the shirt tighter around her body. “I really need to go now.”

Leaving me at the bar, she starts for the bathroom where she left her dress. I don’t know where this puts us, if this is a one-time lapse or some kind of path to reunion. I only know I can’t let her go this way.

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