Текст книги "When the Stars Align"

Автор книги: Jeanette Grey

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Seventeen

Jo stormed down the hallway, scarcely seeing where she was going and not even giving a flying fuck.

It wasn’t fair.

Here. Her father was here. Just when Jo had finally managed to make these huge strides in her life, the very day she’d opened up and let her goddamned guard down. Let herself stand in the ocean half naked, let her boyfriend kiss her in the surf—even fallen asleep on his shoulder. Just when she’d allowed herself to actually have fun for once, surrounded by these people who had become her friends.

He had to show up here. Now. When for one fraction of a second she’d managed to be happy.

The unfairness made her want to scream and stamp her feet like a fucking five-year-old.

And oh God. The things Dr. Galloway had been saying as she’d beckoned Jo to join her. They hadn’t made any sense at the time, but they came together now, forming an ugly picture she could hardly stand to look at without spitting bile.

She’d assumed Jo knew he was here. Of course.

Jo turned the corner, out of sight, and put her back against the wall, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes until it hurt, until she saw stars, and she could claw them right out. A barking mockery of a laugh burned her throat, choking her like smoke. Like the ashes of the last twenty-one years. Because any normal father would tell his kid he was coming a few thousand miles to end up at the same tiny point on the map where he knew she was going to be.

She’d told him. In an e-mail, the same way she communicated anything in the rare instances she had to. She’d gotten a terse acknowledgment, so he’d seen it all right. And shit. Fuck. She skated her hands to her hair and tugged, hard, yanked until her eyes watered, but her stupid brain still wouldn’t shut up.

She’d done everything she was supposed to. Followed him into the sciences and kicked ass at it, even if she was a girl and it was so goddamn hard. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d even picked astronomy, because she loved it, because it made sense to her. Not even out of any idiotic desire to prove something to him or to herself.

And yet. Deep beneath it all, beneath the tattoos and piercings and bitch boots and everything else that told people to stay the hell away from her, she’d hoped. Hadn’t she?

Still hoped, somewhere in the softest, most useless part of herself, that he’d… what? Be proud?

She’d been so stupid.

Dr. Galloway had said it herself. Her dad was here to do some observations. Not for her. Never, ever for her.

And yet she still managed to be surprised.

He’d insisted on calling her by her full name. Worse, the only thing he’d had to say to her beyond that was to ask her about her clothes. She tore her hands from her face and glanced down at herself, and hell, of course he had. She was grimy and covered in salt, her hair a wreck, and she wanted to tear these awful trunks off her body. She’d walk the whole way home buttfuck naked for all she cared. Because that would be better, wouldn’t it? At least that would make it clear exactly what she was.

Back the way she’d come, a door opened, the sound of it followed by the rapid thuds of footfalls against linoleum tile. She calculated in her head. Probably Adam, but it could be her dad, and her heart rate soared. Neither option was good. Lord knew what she’d say to her father, and if it was Adam…

No way could she handle that. She was falling to pieces here, and he’d want to, what? Hold her? No. Absolutely not. He already knew too much, and if he saw her like this… Just the idea of it had her muscles going taut. Not that it mattered. She was shaking. She’d been such a fool to let him see as much as he had already.

She had to move.

Peeling herself off the wall, she started putting distance between herself and whoever it was. She’d turned the wrong way in her rush to leave, toward her office instead of the exit, but that was fine. Maybe Adam or her dad would go the opposite direction. She’d sneak out the other door and circle around, get to her room—

Where she’d have to hide this all inside again. Because she had a roommate. A roommate who was nice and normal, and Carol didn’t deserve… this. No more than Adam did. No more than Jo did.

She didn’t deserve to have the root of all her fears show up here, in this place where she’d decided she was safe for once.

The walls around her blurred, but she didn’t stop. The hallway disappeared beneath the soles of her boots, and she wasn’t hearing much, but if there was anyone behind her, they weren’t close, or they weren’t making a lot of noise. Hell, maybe they’d given up. That would be for the best, even if it ached.

She somehow made it almost all the way to the observatory gates before the sound of someone running behind her broke past the buzzing in her head. Fuck. It had to be Adam then. Her father would never go to such lengths.

Steeling herself, curling her hands into fists, she rounded on him. She didn’t want him here, and she was good at driving people off. It was what she did. What she’d always done, even when she hadn’t meant to…

But he’d stopped. A good half dozen paces behind her, and he had his hands held up in front of himself like she was the cops or something. Trying to show he wasn’t armed.

As if she couldn’t have figured that out for herself. The expression on his face… Fuck, unarmed, he might as well have been naked. Everything about him was soft and accommodating, and…

And what would it be like to go ahead and fall into that? He’d wrap her up tight and safe, encourage her fucking breakdown even. She was sure of it. She could let herself go in his arms, shatter apart.

But how would she ever hold herself together again if she did?

She shook herself and stiffened her spine. “Don’t,” she warned.

He raised his hands even higher. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Do I look all right to you?”

“No.” He edged forward, driving her farther back. “Running out of a room like that actually gives the opposite impression, you know.”

Awesome. She shifted her gaze skyward, but it only made the stinging in her eyes burn hotter. She dug her nails into her palms as hard as she could, maybe hard enough to bleed, because there’s no way in hell she was crying.

“Go away,” she managed.

“No.”

“Seriously, just go—”

“No.”

She threw her hands out to the sides. “What the hell do you mean ‘no’? A girl tells you to leave her alone, you do it, okay?”

“Not my girl. Not when she’s hurting.”

“Fuck you.” His girl, her ass. “Just because we fucked a few times—”

“Don’t.” He shook his head, and he was maddeningly calm. It made her even crazier. How dare he? How could he try to turn this into… into… “You’re upset, and you’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling. Don’t tell me what I think.” She jabbed her fingers at her own chest. “Don’t pretend just because we… whatever…” He didn’t want her to call it fucking, fine, she wouldn’t. “It doesn’t give you any right.”

But he turned soft eyes at her. “Jo. Please.”

“You want to say no? Well, I can do it, too. No. I don’t have to.” Have to what? Pour her fucking heart out to him? Let him in on her whole pathetic story? Didn’t he already have enough of it?

He’d already dug so goddamn deep, getting her to talk about her mother, getting into her pants, getting her to kiss him in public.

“Look,” she said, “maybe this has all been a mistake, so just… just, go back to the lab or to your house or whatever.” She swept her arm out toward the road ahead of them. “I’ll give you a head start and we can pretend none of this ever happened, and you don’t have to feel obligated to give a shit.”

“Is that what you think this is?” And how dare he look so… so… wounded? “An obligation?”

What else would it be?

What else was she supposed to say?

Oh, hell. Her eyes threatened to brim over, and she couldn’t do this. She felt so weak, like such a girl. Such a sad little cliché. She had to get rid of him, and fast, before she became even worse than that.

Her throat wobbled, and she turned around and closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him for another minute. “Go. Just go.”

For a long moment, she thought he actually might listen, and a whole new well of emptiness opened itself up inside her heart. Him turning away from her—it was her fault. She’d done what she’d always done, pushing and pushing, and she shouldn’t be surprised it had finally worked.

She’d known she couldn’t keep this for long.

And then his voice rang out against the night. “Jo.” It came out soft. Pleading, and that made the hole inside her ripple, threatening collapse. Why did he have to sound so kind?

But of course it had to get worse.

“Please, Jo. Please don’t shut me out.”

Her entire chest cavity squeezed, a river of pain she didn’t begin to know how to cope with. She’d always been so good at pushing it down, ignoring it, but this display of fucking tenderness. It broke her.

Something inside her snapped.

She whipped around, the loss and hurt coalescing into one last flare of flame. Consuming heat, and anger, and there he was. Open and vulnerable and all the things she couldn’t afford to be.

She surged. The rage carried her, and she was right up in his face, ready to bite, ready to spit, and she drew her arm back to let it go, to throw her fist into his awful, perfect, understanding face.

Except he caught it. Unflinching, he grasped her knuckles in his big palm and held her hand there.

“No,” he said.

“Fuck you. Fuck you and just… just—” She flung out again, but he grasped her other wrist, too.

And he gazed down at her, expression unchanged, jaw firm. “You can say whatever terrible things you want. Hurt me as much as you feel like, but not like this. You want to let off some aggression, we can do that. But you don’t want to do this.”

She struggled against his hold, squirming and writhing and working to get a hand, a fist, an elbow out. She’d kick him in the balls or step on his feet or—

But his grip was solid. He turned her around and fit her spine to his chest, wrapped her arms around herself and held them there, her hands pinned, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see and couldn’t hear, and he was restraining her, and how could he?

How could he still be here?

“Shh,” he said, but it wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t cruel.

She didn’t have any idea what to do with it.

And it was a different kind of snapping. A wholly new sort of a disconnect in her misfiring, awful brain.

He was here. The boy who’d earned her respect, and whose respect she was pretty sure she’d gotten right back. The strong, beautiful man who took her apart and who allowed her to pin him to his bed.

He’d given her every inch of leeway, right up until now. When she was throwing everything she had into pushing him away, because people always went away. They found out who she was, or in her father’s case, they knew from the start. And they left.

But Adam was right here, putting his foot down in the face of her bullshit and refusing to let her self-destruct.

And all the fight went out of her at once.

He caught her before she could sag too far, the iron bars of his arms going cradling instead of confining. As the first hiccup of breath forced its way past her throat, he was shifting her, getting her turned around, and the next thing she knew, they were on the ground. Right there by the side of the road. He set her in his lap, her face pressed to his neck, and he was surrounding her, supporting her. Keeping her, even after all the ugliness she’d unleashed.

“It’s okay. It’s all right.” He petted her hair and kissed her brow, and oh.

There were the tears she’d been keeping in for all these years. Apparently, she’d been storing them up, because they flowed out of her like rain, sobs bubbling up with a kind of violence she hadn’t been prepared for.

She fisted her hand in his shirt, clinging on and crying against his chest. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled it, repeating it while he gentled her.

Wordlessly, he shifted his grip, holding her closer. “Shh.”

“I just—”

“I know.”

She lifted her head, and she was covered in tears and probably worse, but it couldn’t have been as bad as what she’d already shown him. “You didn’t need to see that.”

His smile was tiny and sad. All tenderness, he brushed the damp strands of her hair from her face. “I want to see whatever you’re willing to show me.”

“I tried to hit you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up higher, a ghost of a grin she could almost believe. “Not very hard.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong about that, but still. She knew enough about what she was doing when it came to fighting; she could have done some damage if she’d really wanted to. He rubbed her spine, and unsure of what else to do, she gave in to it, dropping her head to rest against his chest again. The tears kept coming, but they were quieter now. The kind that she could breathe through. She took a few slow, shaking breaths.

When she opened her mouth again, the words tumbled out. “He didn’t even tell me he was coming.”

Adam’s hands only stuttered a little, a there and gone again flicker of hesitation before he returned to stroking across her shoulder blades. It loosed another shiver from her frame.

“Two years it’s been since I’ve seen him. Then he comes here, and he knew I’d be here. And he what? Surprises me?” She sniffled, dragging a hand under her nose. “If Dr. Galloway hadn’t interfered, maybe he could have avoided me entirely.”

“Maybe…” Adam trailed off. Because yeah. There weren’t really any good ways to spin this.

“And then the first thing he says is some shitty comment about what I’m wearing.”

Adam pressed his lips against her temple hard, his grip on her tightening. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She snorted half a laugh. “Sure. Why not?”

“I’ve never wanted to punch a person in the face as much as I did when he said that.”

And it was so strange—sure, he’d showed his strength a dozen times today, holding her up against a post with the force of his hips. Grabbing her fist before she could land a blow.

But the idea that he would have turned that power on someone else, taken the offensive—that he would’ve been willing to do it for her. The shattered edges inside her seemed to smooth over. Just a little.

“Really?” she asked.

“Say the word. I’ll go back and do it now.”

She shook her head, and her heart squeezed. As satisfying as that might be to see, “back” was the last place on earth she wanted to go.

Confession bloomed like blood from a wound. “I don’t know how I’m going to face him again.” She flattened her hand against his chest. “Everything had been going so well and—” And now it was all ruined.

“That doesn’t have to change.”

“Of course it does. He’s here, and I turn into a different person around him.”

She’d felt so open these past few days. This afternoon. Just thinking about trying to work around her father at the lab, worrying about running into him in the hall or the cafeteria or anywhere. It was a set of broad oak doors, slamming shut.

“Then I won’t let you.”

“Ha.” That was too much to hope for, wasn’t it?

“Come on. Saying no worked out okay today, didn’t it?”

Not at first it hadn’t. But eventually…

At her quiet, he pressed more kisses to her hairline. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, or be anybody you don’t want to be.”

“Hey. I really wanted to shove you away earlier.”

“No,” he said against her skin. “You didn’t.”

She didn’t have a reply for that.

So badly, she wanted to believe him. But what were a few words from a guy she’d only barely started seeing? What were a few weeks against the years and years of her life?

Everything, a quiet voice inside her said. But a louder, more familiar one insisted, Nothing.

Chapter Eighteen

Okay. This was not how Adam had pictured spending his evening.

And yet, as he rocked Jo in his arms, there beneath the open sky, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He wished he could’ve saved her the pain that’d had her sobbing, but…

She’d shown him something new tonight. Let him in.

Eventually. God. This could’ve gone so much worse. When he’d first tracked her down, she’d scared the shit out of him. There were a lot of things he was willing to endure for someone he cared about, but she’d been skirting a line. One he hadn’t been entirely sure they could recover from. He’d been skirting another one.

If he’d pushed her too far, insisting on following her… if she’d actually gone through with fighting him… or if he’d hurt her, trying to defend himself…

But no. He’d made the right call. She’d been scared and hurt and lashing out, and once she’d seen there wasn’t any point to it, that he wasn’t the enemy…

She’d fallen apart. How long had that been coming? She curled up against him, trembling and showing a depth of vulnerability he’d always known lurked somewhere under there, and it had broken his heart.

He had to force his hands to be gentle as he cupped her head and kept her close. Considering what she’d told him about her family, she wouldn’t have had any reason to expect someone to do this for her. To hold her while she cried. To comfort her with their touch.

It made the same anger that had almost overtaken him at the observatory rear up and growl. She deserved better than she’d gotten.

And she was going to get it. The fire inside him resolved into decision. He was going to take care of her. He was going to give her all the love and affection she’d been missing out on.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, but eventually her breathing seemed to settle back down, and she started fidgeting inside his arms. He patted her shoulder and loosened his grip, half bracing himself just in case. She’d let him awfully far behind her walls. He’d only be so surprised if she responded by building them up again, thicker and taller than ever before.

She took the slack he’d given her to sit up straighter, sliding off his lap to land beside him on the ground.

“Sorry,” she said, and he was prepared to tell her not to be. But she turned to look at him, her expression sheepish. “I could’ve picked a more comfortable place for my little meltdown.”

He rolled his eyes, striving for normalcy when all he wanted was to reel her back in. “Yeah. Plan ahead next time, would you?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

He nudged his knee against hers. “But if there is. You know I’m here for you, right?”

This was it. The moment of truth.

And instead of pushing him away, she leaned into him. “Yeah. You’ve proven that much tonight.”

He let out his breath, flooded with relief. “Come on.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

Placing her palm in his, she allowed him to help her up. They took a second to right themselves. When they were as put together as they were going to get, he stooped to grab their bags, then put his arm around her for the rest of the walk.

When the houses came into sight, she slowed their pace. “By getting me home, did you mean…?”

He tightened his arm around her waist. Preparing himself for a no, he said, “Come back to mine? Only if you want to. But if you do, I’d…” He’d love it was what he’d do. “I’d like that. I don’t really want to let go of you yet.”

As accustomed to it as she might be, he didn’t want her to be alone.

She nodded, though her posture was stiff. “I’m not promising you anything.”

Seriously? Voice firm, he said, “I’m definitely not expecting it.”

With that, he headed them down the path to the guys’ house. Mercifully, the windows were all dark. The rest of the crowd must be hanging out at the girls’ place again. Thank God. Neither he nor Jo was really in a position to be putting up a cheerful front right now.

Sure enough, the place seemed deserted, save for a light on under Tom’s closed door. But he almost never stuck his head out there. No chance he’d be bothering them.

Plunking their bags down in the entryway, he looked to Jo. It felt so normal to have her in his space now, and yet at the same time that normality itself was strange. He scratched his salt-stiff hair and glanced around. “Do you want something to eat? Maybe a drink?” He gestured at the television in the living room. “We can just… hang out. See if there are any movies on.”

She scowled, looking down. “I feel disgusting, actually.”

Okay. That was an objective he could deal with. “Shower,” he agreed.

He led her toward the bathroom, ushering her inside. But then he hesitated. Hovering in the doorway, he swallowed and gestured at the space within. “Do you want? I mean, I could really use one, too. I can wait and take my turn, but—” Fuck it, after everything they’d been through today, the least he could do was put what he wanted into words. “We could share. I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”

She shook her head, and his heart fell, but then she sighed and beckoned him in. “Insert joke about saving water here.”

His throat went dry. “You sure?”

“Get in here already.”

Taking her at her word, he stepped inside, closing the door and locking it behind him. She stooped over to get the water heating up, then without ceremony started to strip.

With her back to him.

The doorknob in his hand and the floor beneath his feet were his only touchstones to the world as she shimmied her way out of her bra, baring the long expanse of her spine. There was no rush of desire to keep him from looking his fill, no wicked smile as she pinned him to a bed or sucked him in or started to ride him.

Just her, inked and damaged and beautiful and taking her clothes off in front of him.

He reached out his hand but stopped before he could touch.

The tattoo stretched across her shoulder blades was an animal all right, but not one of the ones he’d originally suspected. The tiger prowled across the landscape of her flesh, coiled strength and sinewy muscles that followed the curves of her spine and ribs. It rippled with strength and grace and implicit threat, its teeth and claws all hidden but there. Ready to be bared at any instant.

It was dangerous and beautiful. Just like her.

“Well? You planning on getting naked at some point, too?”

While he’d been gawking, she’d managed to get her boots and bottoms off. Fully nude, she gazed over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised, like she was trying to be teasing. Only she wasn’t quite managing it. She shifted her weight between her feet, looking… self-conscious? It seemed impossible after the brazenness with which she usually took off her clothes in front of him. Then again, in all the time they’d been together, she had yet to let him see her like this.

Releasing his death grip on the doorknob, he took one careful step toward her and another. With his already extended hand, he worked to bridge the gap, her tension like a force field between them. But he pushed through it.

The first brush of his fingertips over her skin made her shudder, a tingle of electricity rushing down his arm. She was warm to the touch, the inked lines on her skin lightly raised. He traced the tiger’s flank, the fine detail that made up its fur. Dropping her head forward, she leaned into him.

“Right,” she said, voice strained. “Almost forgot you had a body mod kink.”

“I have a Jo kink.” With the utmost reverence, he stroked his thumb down the side of the tiger’s face. “This is gorgeous.”

Some of the stiffness seeped out of her shoulders. “I knew you’d like it, but—” She stopped, and he had to still his tongue against the impulse to fill the silence with more praise. “It’s personal, you know?” He hummed, waiting a couple of beats before she volunteered, “My mother was born in the year of the tiger. My dad, too, but it was for her. Originally.”

“Originally?”

She shrugged. “Can’t really ignore the fact that they were born in the same year. I could have done something that was unique to her, you know? But instead I went with this. Subconsciousness, what?”

He paused the motions of his fingers across her skin.

Her voice dipped lower. “I guess maybe I was hoping he’d like it, too.”

Adam almost didn’t want to ask. “Did he ever see it?”

“Eventually. The last time I wore a bathing suit.”

Oh. “And what did he say?”

In a rushing whoosh of an exhalation, she answered, “Nothing.”

With that, she climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain partway closed, leaving him out there alone, still clothed and staring after her.

Well. He wasn’t waiting around for a written invitation.

He got undressed and stepped inside. In what little time he’d wasted, she’d gotten her head under the spray, and she stood there, facing him, her eyes closed, wet hair plastered to her head. She’d crossed her arms over her chest, making a shelf beneath her breasts where water pooled. Rivulets ran their way across her skin, tracing the slopes and valleys of her curves, and his breath got caught inside his chest. His body responded the way it always did, but he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore it.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she sluiced the water off her face as she stepped to the side, offering him a chance under the spray. He shook his head. He’d get his crack at it eventually. For now, he had something else in mind.

“Turn around?” It came out more a question than a directive, his tongue thicker around the request than he had planned.

To his surprise, she did as he’d asked, though she did give him a little lip, so he didn’t have to wonder if she was really in there or not. “Need some more time to ogle my tattoo?”

“Side benefit.” He bent to grab his shampoo, then paused. There wasn’t any telling what was whose, but the bathroom at the girls’ house was stocked with all kinds of things. All he had was basic drugstore stuff. “Do you need to use something special for your hair? Because of the dye?”

She peeked over her shoulder at him, her gaze registering the bottle in his hand. She turned back around and shrugged. “It’ll make it fade faster, but whatever. I need to redo it soon anyway.”

Taking her at her word, he popped the cap and squirted some into his palm before setting the bottle down. He raised his hands, letting them hover above her crown. “Can I?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said, flippant as anything, but with a shiver running down her spine the instant his fingertips connected with her flesh.

He spread the lather through her hair with gentle strokes and soft kneading of her scalp, taking care not to let it run down into her eyes. Taking his time. When he was done, he pulled away. “Okay.”

He used the time she spent rinsing the shampoo out to rub his bar of soap between his hands. She twisted to face him and took one look at him before narrowing her eyes. “Just because I agreed to shower with you doesn’t mean I suddenly became incapable of washing myself.”

Of course she would interpret this like that. He kept his expression open, hiding how sad that made him. “Humor me?”

She rolled her eyes but dropped her arms to her sides.

All his efforts to keep his arousal at bay went to hell as he ran slick fingers over her skin. The grit of sand and sweat and the dried tears of the ocean melted beneath the water and the lather and his oh so careful touch. When he got to her waist, he braced himself for the joke he knew was coming as he dropped to kneel before her.

With a shaky laugh, she tangled her fingers in his hair. “Always wanted to get a man on his knees for me. Not exactly how I pictured it, though.”

“Disappointed?” He kept his gaze on the way the bubbles clung to her thighs as he lathered them up.

“No.”

Silence hung in the air as he finished, the space around them shrinking. The intimacy of this small act making him feel like he could stay right here. Forever.

When he nudged her hip, she turned around, and he did the backs of her legs, working not to linger too long on the curves of her ass. He moved to stand to get her shoulders, to clean the skin of her tattoo, but she stopped him, reaching to get a hand around his wrist.

“Wait.”

The bathtub floor beneath his knees wasn’t getting any softer, but she’d trusted him enough so far. The least he could do was return the favor. Resisting the urge to get up, he watched her as she sluiced the suds from her thighs. Then she turned to him and said, “Close your eyes.”

Warm water rained down on his face, wetting his hair. Her fingers moved through the strands, and his throat bobbed. He knew what she was doing.

Finding his voice, he said, “I haven’t forgotten how to wash myself either, you know.”

“Humor me.”

She reached over him for his shampoo.

And it was strange. In a sense, she’d been taking care of him all along, leading the way through most of their sexual encounters. But the gentle touch of her hands on the nape of his neck, sweeping up behind his ears and massaging at his scalp… it was different.

When she was done, she moved as if to shift away, but he curled his hands around her hips. For a second, he rested his brow against the softness of her belly. And he breathed.

Finally, she rubbed her knuckles beneath his jaw. “The water’s going to get cold.”

It never got cold, per se—not in this climate—but it was as good a segue as any. Keeping one hand at her side, he lifted his head and rose to his feet. He caught her face in his hand, holding her still so he could brush his lips against hers. “Thank you,” he said.

Her only response was another kiss.

They moved around each other in silence for the last few minutes of their shower. He got to wash her back after all, and she snuck in strategic touches as he soaped himself up. By the time they were done, the water had cooled all right, and after a nod of approval from her, he turned it off.

Without the shower raining down on them, the room went eerily quiet. He only had the one towel in here, so they took turns with it, neither one getting really dry, but the steamy air was suddenly oppressively wet, the dampness clinging to their bodies. They might not have had much luck with a dozen towels, if they’d had them, much less two.

She stared down the door as he finished swabbing off. “So. Are we running for it, or…?”

Oh. Right. They hadn’t stopped to grab spare clothing, either. He turned to her and stretched the towel out, waiting until she sighed and stepped into it before wrapping it around her breasts, under her arms. She took the edges and tucked them in before tilting her head at him.