She shrugged and her hands fluttered upward to cover the marks. “I need to keep them clean but they’re not serious. They’ll be gone in a week or so.”
Outwardly they might disappear but inwardly the scars would take much longer to heal. “I’m going to run you a bath.” Not giving her time to protest, he started down the short hallway and found her bathroom on the left-hand side.
It was painted a pale green with crisp white towels waiting on a shelf. The counter was lined with bottles and lotions. It smelled like Missy. T.S. took a deep breath and smiled. She was such a girly girl. He liked that about her. She was strong but didn’t sacrifice her femininity. If anything, she embraced it.
“What are you doing?” There was an edge of near panic to her voice. He ignored it as he reached down, put the plug in the drain and turned on the taps. When the temperature was right, he straightened.
“I’m running you a bath.”
Missy felt as though her life was spiraling out of control. All she’d wanted was to come home, curl up by herself and lick her wounds. Instead, she’d cried all over T.S., had somehow agreed to let him stay the night, and now he’d invaded her bathroom.
He cupped her shoulders in his large hands and leaned down. The heat from his palm seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, making her realize just how cold she was.
She thought he might kiss her again. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that possibility. She was still reeling from the last kiss and that hardly qualified as a real kiss. More of a slight touching of lips.
“Go get undressed. I’ll watch the bath for you.” He turned her and gave her a slight push toward her bedroom.
Missy took the reprieve as a chance to regroup. Hurrying to her room, she shut the door and leaned against it. T.S. was staying the night.
“Get a grip,” she muttered. He wasn’t sleeping with her. The man had been stabbed. Had stitches. He just needed someone to keep an eye on him for the night.
“Missy?” A heavy knock came on the door. “You okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t telling him that. She also wasn’t ready for him to be in her bedroom. Not now. Maybe not ever. “I’ll just be a minute.”
She shoved away from the door and began to strip off her dress. It went straight in the trash. Not only was the rip in a place that couldn’t easily be repaired, she knew she’d never be able to wear the dress again. Not with the memories attached to it.
She kicked off her shoes and stripped off her stockings, tossing them on top of her dress. Her underwear followed. She wanted no reminders of this night.
Missy’s hands were shaking as she pulled on her thick terrycloth robe and tightened the belt around her waist. Her bedroom was her oasis, done exactly as she wanted in shades of green and brown. Usually it relaxed her after a long day but tonight it seemed cold and empty.
She hurried to the door and yanked it open. T.S. was propped against the wall across from her. He should have looked ridiculous in dress pants and a hospital scrub top. Instead, he was dangerous. Tempting.
His shoulders were huge and his forearms thickly muscled. Even the white bandage wrapped around his upper left arm couldn’t detract from his air of danger. If anything it added to it.
His black hair hung loose around his shoulders and his golden-brown eyes watched her. His jawline was dark with stubble. He shifted his body, but his gaze never left her. “Ready for your bath?”
She nodded, not quite knowing what to say. The moment was so…intimate. Ripe with sexual tension. Her breasts tingled and she was damp between her thighs. She put her head down and brushed past him. She caught a whiff of male sweat and woodsy cologne and it made her pussy clench.
She started to close the bathroom door but his hand blocked her. “Don’t lock the door. Just in case.”
In case what? She certainly wasn’t going to call out and ask him for help. Not while she was wet and naked. Okay, skip that thought. The idea of T.S. seeing her in such a position didn’t exactly freak her out as much as she thought it would.
Her body heated from the inside out as though it liked the idea. Her skin felt flushed and sensitive. Even the air brushing over it felt like a caress.
T.S. finally stepped back and she shut the door. He’d found several candles and lit them. Missy liked the softer lighting and was glad not to have to bathe under the bright overhead ones.
Her bathwater was waiting. She dipped her fingers in and almost moaned. It was perfect. She removed her bathrobe and hung it on the back of the door before stepping into the tub. She groaned as she sank into the hot water. Leaning back against the edge, she finally let herself relax and soak away the tension of the night.
She still couldn’t believe she’d been attacked. If not for T.S.— “Don’t think about it.” She closed her eyes, determined to push those dark thoughts from her mind. A single tear slid down her cheek and she swiped it away. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
A slight sound made her eyes pop open. The door handle was turning. He wouldn’t…would he?
He did.
T.S. appeared in the doorway with a glass of wine in one hand. Missy curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, trying desperately to preserve her modesty. “What are you doing? Get out of here?”
He ignored her protests and set the glass on the edge of the tub. “I figured you could use something to help relax you. You sip on that while I wash your back.”
“I don’t need anyone to wash my back.” Missy was mortified and half turned-on. She didn’t know whether to laugh at him or smack him. The man had some nerve inviting himself to stay at her apartment, taking it over and then barging in while she was having a bath.
“Sure you do.” He lifted the glass and brought it to her lips. “Have some. I found it in your refrigerator, so I know you like it.”
She sighed and gave in to the inevitable. Short of jumping out of the bath and pushing him out the door, he wasn’t leaving. And she wasn’t about to give up the slight covering sitting in the tub gave her.
She tugged the glass from his hand and took a sip, needing something to fortify her against T.S. The man was magnetic and tugged on all her suppressed longings. He made her want to jump his very sexy bones. He also wasn’t right for her. They were too different.
He was football and beer. She was the symphony and champagne. He was blue-collar. She was white-collar. He was rough and tough and had “bad boy” written all over him. He needed a danger label tattooed on his forehead.
Her childhood and adolescent years had been filled with blue-collared bad boys. Her father had been one in his youth and so were her brothers. They drank too much, didn’t consider anything beyond football to be cultural and often ended up in prison because of drunken brawls. She didn’t want that in her life. Had worked hard to leave it behind her.
Not that T.S. drank to excess. On the contrary, he seemed very controlled when it came to his consumption of alcohol. But they were different in so many ways. It didn’t make sense to start something that could only end badly.
Then there was the added problem of having their best friends married to one another. Any relationship between her and T.S. would be short-lived at best and then where would that leave them? They’d still have to see one another when they socialized with Candy and Lucas. It was inevitable. It would also be awkward and tense.
The glass made a clinking sound as he plucked it from her fingers and set it back on the side of the tub. He picked up a thick facecloth and dipped it into the water. He reached across her, his forearm brushing hers as he grabbed the soap from the dish. She watched his hands, calloused and strong, rub the soap on the cloth until he had a froth of bubbles.