Something flickered behind his eyes. “You’ve been through a helluva lot today, Becca. Whatever this is, it’s only just begun. You need rest to deal with it.”
His concern made her smile. She crossed the room to him, pushed up onto tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his jaw. “Thank you for wanting to take care of me. I’ll be fine on the couch, though. Promise.”
“I do.” His gaze connected with hers, warm and intense, and he lowered his arms.
“What?” she asked, hiking the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder.
Nick’s brow furrowed, and for a moment he looked away, like he was grappling with the words. Finally, his eyes were back on hers. “Want to take care of you.” His jaw ticked. “When that guy had you . . . and then you were bleeding . . .” He shook his head.
Her heart squeezed with affection for him. No, not just affection, something bigger, deeper. How could she have known him for only a few days, when it felt like it had surely been so much longer? Becca cupped the hard angle of his jaw. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, either.” Her thumb stroked over his cheek, just south of the red swelling around his busted cheekbone. Tape on his face, the skin around his right eye bruising, stubble covering his jaw and chin . . . God, he was beautiful in all his rough edges, utterly appealing. Suddenly, it was too much, and she was too close. Dropping her hand, she stepped back. “Between your cheek and my forehead, we’re a pair, aren’t we?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah.” Then his expression went serious again. “If you won’t sleep here, then take my bed.”
His bed? “Uh, but I—”
“It’ll give you more privacy. I saw what you slept in the other night, remember? And I’d rather these meatheads didn’t.”
The tone of his voice might’ve sounded playful if it hadn’t been for the dark glint in his eyes. Was that jealousy? Protectiveness? Both had her heart kicking up in her chest. “Where were you planning to sleep, anyway?”
“Couch in my office.”
“Oh.” Why did that news unleash a flicker of disappointment inside her? “But I was trying to give one of the guys a bed. You know, maybe make them a little less cranky.”
His lips twitched again. “I know you were. But they could sleep standing up if they had to. They’ll be fine. I’m not worried about them.”
But he was worried about her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but instead she just shrugged. “Just tell me where you want me, then.”
“In my bed.” His eyes went molten.
So boldly stated, the words dragged over her skin and heated her blood. “I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?”
It was the closest thing to a real smile she’d seen from him. And it was lethally sexy. He just nodded.
A few moments later, she made her way to Nick’s connected office and bedroom. Curiosity flowed through her as she stepped inside. An overstuffed dark blue couch, the kind that sucked you right into its cushiness, filled one wall, and a flat-screen TV hung opposite. Magazines were stacked on top of a small bookshelf packed with titles she couldn’t make out. The desk had an organizer full of forms and files, and a laptop sat open but dark in the center. A sketchbook lay on the corner, some sort of line drawing just visible in the diffuse glow of the hall light.
Turning on the desk lamp revealed what looked to be the finished drawing of the soldier-fireman tattoo he was supposed to do tomorrow. It was . . . really freaking good, like the man was walking off the page toward her. Was he still going to be able to do this for Jeremy? God, she really had just taken over his life, hadn’t she?
A narrow hallway extended from one corner of the room, and Becca headed that way. A wall switch threw light onto a set of open sliding closet doors on the one side, the bathroom door on the other, and presumably the bedroom door at the far end. She set her bag on the floor outside the bathroom as her gaze landed on a series of black garment bags pushed flush against one wall of Nick’s closet. Her gaze dropped to the floor, where a set of shiny black dress shoes and a pair of well-abused combat boots were tucked beneath the hanging bags. Two military-issue duffels filled the shelf above. Aside from his tattoo of the Special Forces crest, these were the first things she’d seen that proved he’d once served in the U.S. military. It was like he’d packed that part of himself away.
Suddenly feeling like she was snooping, Becca grabbed her things, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.
When she came out a few minutes later, Nick was in his bedroom chucking dirty clothes into a hamper. Well, except the lone sock the puppy was chewing on next to the bed. Other than his big bed with its plain dark green comforter dominating the center, the nightstand on one side with the only lamp, and the long dresser against the opposite wall, the room was pretty empty. There weren’t even curtains on his windows, just drawn blinds. Two stacks of cardboard boxes sat in the far corner. More parts of his life packed away, she guessed.
Was she imagining it, or was he limping? For a long moment, she studied him. Sure enough . . . Protectiveness flooded through her. “You don’t have to pick up, Nick,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb. “It’s been a long day for you, too.”
His gaze cut across the room toward her. “It’s no problem. I changed the sheets,” he said, raking his fingers through his dark hair.
Becca’s fingers twitched in response. His hair was soft and thick, just long enough to grab when they kissed . . . “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks. I really wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch. I don’t want to disturb you if I can’t sleep.”
“No. Bed’s all yours.” At the door, he paused and looked down at her, his normally bright eyes dark in the low light. His nearness made her skin tingle. “G’night.”
The sudden urge to hug him, to hold him, to ask him to stay surged through her. She didn’t fight it. Stepping into him, she slid her arms around his back and laid her head against his chest. “Thank you,” she said.
When his arms finally came around her, she released a breath. God, he was warm and strong, and it felt right holding him like this.
He kissed the top of her head.
The soft, sweet touch sent her heart flying. She tilted her head back, wanting, hoping.
Eyes locked on hers, Nick leaned down slowly. Becca’s lips fell open, hungry for him. His breath caressed her skin, and his nose rubbed against hers. Anticipation of the kiss had her nearly breathless, and she fisted her hands in his shirt. His lips claimed hers gently, almost reverently. He lingered for another moment, then withdrew. “I hope you can get some sleep.” He stepped around her and pulled the door closed with a click.
NICK HEAVED A breath and forced himself to walk away from his bedroom. Because, Jesus Christ, Becca was going to be sleeping in his bed tonight, those long legs sliding between his sheets, that silky golden hair sprawled against his pillows, the sweet perfume of her skin soaking into his blankets.
But he’d been right to suggest she sleep back here, no matter how much ache settled into his balls for wanting her, because her little sleep shorts were so not fit for public consumption. At least not if he had anything to say about it.
Maybe she wasn’t his to protect and shield from other men’s eyes. Okay, she wasn’t. But that didn’t make his possessive instincts any less real or any less strong. Whatever that meant.
In the bathroom, he gulped down some ibuprofen with a few handfuls of water, then grabbed a cover from the top shelf of his closet and tossed it to the couch. Having spent more than a few nights sleeping there, he knew it was comfortable enough. Something caught his eye, and he did a double take at the desk.