Yes, my speech was quite extensive, well researched, well thought out. I would have probably won an award. And that award would have been for stupidity, but… there I was, still staring, still arguing, still telling myself it was okay to want what I’d given up so long ago — what I didn’t deserve.
“Ax?” Amy squeaked. “Is something wrong?”
My body responded in the most inappropriate way, coming alive at the sound of her voice as if she’d just offered to let me lick her while pushing the damn bubble away.
“Uh, yeah,” I snapped. “Sorry, just, next time don’t scream unless something’s really wrong, I could have shot you.”
Romance was clearly lost on me. Of all the things to say, I could have shot you probably killed the moment more than anything. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bubble suddenly spontaneously split into two just to shame me for being such an ass.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“‘K.” I backed away, forgetting that I’d closed the door behind me, and collided with the doorknob. Wincing, I turned, gave her a salute, because that’s what mafia hit men do when they’re in a bathroom with a naked girl, they salute her like a freaking boy scout, and then leave.
Once the door shut behind me I almost turned the gun on myself.
What the hell was I going to do the rest of the time we were together? And how was I going to keep my hands from touching her when the need to be near her was almost painful?
“Ax,” she called from inside the bathroom.
I cracked open the door. “Yeah?”
“Thanks… for coming… even though it was a false alarm.”
“I’ll always come,” I vowed. “I swear.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I want you to run in my direction — screaming works.”
A grin spread over my face and I winked. “Just make sure it’s my name and we won’t have any problems.”
Just the thought of her yelling my name in pleasure had my body going hot all over, my clothes feeling to tight and my trigger-happy finger ready to drop the gun and run towards her.
“Okay.”
I shut the door again and cursed under my breath as I made my way towards the room. When I opened the door I wanted to curse all over again, maybe throw a tantrum, or perhaps a chair? Yeah throwing a chair would make it all better.
One king-sized bed.
I walked back down the hall.
Two bathrooms.
And one bedroom.
The next room was an office.
Perfect.
The couch and I were going to get real close because no chance in hell could I lie inches from her with the knowledge of what it was like to hold her in my arms haunting my dreams.
Shaking the thought from my head, I tried to focus on something else, anything else. Food. I needed to feed her. I quickly picked up the phone and dialed room service. Maybe I’d just eat away my lust—right that would work, eat until was so sick I couldn’t do anything about the way I felt about the girl in the bathtub driving me to an early grave.
By the time Amy was finished bathing I was ready to shoot myself in the hand just so I could be distracted by a little blood and pain. The entire bathroom smelled like girl, and not cheap girl. Not the type of girl that makes you want to cough and wheeze because there’s so much perfume.
No. It was soap. Hotel soap. But I swear her skin had chemically altered it, making it smell better than anything I’d ever smelled in my entire life. Pathetic that she was probably already out like a light and I was in the shower smelling hotel soup and trying not to let my arousal get so out of control that I had a permanent problem dressing myself or covering myself enough not to look like some horny teen who just found out what his junk was for.
I turned the spout to the shower as far as I could, the hot water pounded my back, and the more I stayed underneath it, the worse my thoughts became.
Thoughts of her in the bath.
The damn bubble again. I swear if there was a Mr. Bubble container I’d probably be groping it.
Nixon would be doing me a favor by shooting me when I got back to Chicago. I was hardly acting like a man, let alone a man that tortured people for information and dropped bodies into the lake when I wasn’t satisfied with what they said. Then again that had been years ago—did I really know that man anymore? Did I still want to be him? Apparently going into hiding made a person soft.
Ridiculous.
Cursing, I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, then padded down to the bedroom, hoping the lights were off, hoping she was sleeping and hoping that I could throw on a pair of boxers and just be done with the whole painful scenario.
As luck would have it, all the lights were on. Amy was lying across the bed, her wet hair kissing the pillow, her thumbnail in her mouth and her lips pressed against her thumb in such a tender way I damn near flinched beneath my towel.
“Sorry.” She yawned, stretching her arms above her head. I’d given her a pair of my boxers and a white t-shirt to sleep in. They looked good on her, too good, better than the sexed up outfit she’d had on before.
Suppressing a groan I smiled at her as politely as I could, which probably meant it looked like I was ready to rip her in half with my teeth, and reached into my suitcase for a pair of boxers.
“Which side?” Amy whispered behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I panicked with how to respond.
Slowly, I turned. “I uh…”
“Middle?” She winked. “Or left?”
My smile grew as her eyes lit with playfulness. It was the Amy I remembered, the one who let me wipe her tears, the one I wanted to save for myself.
And if I was being completely honest, the face I saw when I was with other women, when I kissed them, slept with them, did anything with them, I’d always wished it was her.
And now she was asking me what side of the bed I wanted. Life could be so cruel. Dangling her in front of me like a damn prize I’d never be good enough to get, let alone deserve.
“Middle,” I croaked. “I like the middle now.”
“Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?” She tilted her head. I couldn’t refuse that pout, those eyes. Damn it, a freaking gunfight wouldn’t be able to distract me from that face. Since when did I decide to even share the bed?
She smiled again.
Right, since she started holding my sanity captive.
“Ready?” I lifted my hands.
Her eyes scanned my abs and chest before she lifted her hands and said, “Rock, Paper, Scissors.”