Page 38 of Unchained

Holy fucking shit. His palms grew damp. She’d just pleasured herself in the shower because he hadn’t had the balls to. He dropped his forehead to the wooden door.

He was going to need a lot more than a shower to get that image out of his head.

CHAPTER 13

Cam rested her palm against the wall of the shower. Water washed over her shoulders and chest and ran between her legs. She ran her fingers under the spray, washing away her slickness. The walls of her vagina throbbed, wanting more.

She turned off the taps abruptly. She should have known bringing herself to orgasm would pale in comparison to what she really needed—Brooks. Stepping out of the shower, she yanked a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. Steam cloaked the bathroom, making the air thick. Crap. In her hurry to wash away her embarrassment after throwing herself at Brooks, she’d forgotten her clothes in her bag. Brooks probably wasn’t back yet anyway.

She opened the door.

A black wall of chest blocked her vision. She slapped her hand to her throat and gasped, her body rising so high on her toes she almost levitated. “What are you doing?”

Brooks mouth slashed into a grim line. “Food’s ready.”

Her nerves hummed, falling into harmony with the strumming of need still infringing on her senses. “Why are you outside the door?” Jeez. Had he heard her moan?

“I was just about to knock.” He peeled his arm away from the doorframe above her head and skulked to the small dinette table pushed against the wall.

Two wrapped submarine sandwiches sat on napkins. “I just got you the same as mine.” He turned to face her, his thigh against the table. “You okay? Your cheeks are pink.”

She pushed her wet hair away from her forehead. “Fine. Just had a hot shower.” She took the last few steps to the bed, where her bag sat, stuffed full of both their clothes. She rifled inside, and new heat flamed her flesh.

When she’d put together her go-bag, packing lightly had been of utmost importance. She had one pair of clean pants, which she’d intended to save for tomorrow, and only an oversized sleep shirt for bed. Pulling out the shirt and clean underwear, she eyed the material in the bag. She hated to wear dirty pants, but sleeping next to Brooks without bottoms would be dangerous. Then again—

“Are you missing something?”

She glanced over her shoulder as Brooks sat in one of the small chairs at the table. He tented his fingers beneath his chin.

The sleep shirt was long—not like she’d be walking around in underwear and a tank top, which she normally wore to bed. “No, I’m fine.” She returned to the bathroom and quickly changed. One glance in the mirror showed she still wore the bandage on her chin. She yanked it off and winced. The cut felt tight, but was at last closed up. She hung up her towel, and came back out.

Brooks was unfolding the wrapper on his sandwich, but his gaze left his food to skim over the heather-gray hemline of her shirt, which rested several inches above her knees. She pulled out the other chair and sat.

Warm blue irises found her face. “Lose your pants?” Amusement slanted his grin. His gaze dropped to her braless breasts and fire singed her cheeks.

Given the room’s dim lighting and the loose fit of her sleep shirt, she’d expected most of her assets to be hidden, even without a bra. She’d been wrong. Her nipples tightened in response to his attention, and she pressed her knees together to keep the heat from pooling through her panties.

“It’s a nighty. I didn’t expect to share a room with someone when I packed my bag.” She opened the paper surrounding her sandwich. The scent of chicken and tzatziki sauce made her mouth water.

Brooks dove into his food as she bit into the soft, garlicky bread and tangy tomatoes. He’d picked a darn good sandwich. He chewed, took another bite, and then washed it down with a sip from one of the two bottles of water. “About that,” he said.

She lifted her eyebrows, more interested in filling her stomach than forming words at the moment.

He swiped his mouth with a napkin. “When did you pack that bag?”

She rubbed her ankles together. She’d already told him about Isaac, so there wasn’t much else to hide, but the fact that she’d been living in fear so long, and the lengths to which she’d gone to conceal her mom, get a gun, and other survival items, made her sound a little bit loony.

“When I got settled in Timber’s Terrain.” She sunk her fingertips deeper into the soft bread. “I never wanted to be in the position of scrambling to run again. I knew I could leave almost everything as long as I had that bag ready.”

He chomped three more bites of his sandwich, finishing it off, then sat back in his chair and dusted off his fingers. Swallowing, he stared at her. “You think he’d come all this way to find you?”

“I know he would,” she said, without missing a beat. “He lost his career because of me, did time inside, and was already filled with resentment before all that. He wants me dead.” She unscrewed the cap on her water bottle and sipped. The cold water rushed down her throat, cooling her from the inside but doing absolutely nothing to tame the desire that flowed over her flesh.

Brooks folded his arms across his chest. The movement made the muscles on his arms bulge, stretching the ink of his tattoos. She stared, transfixed by the symbols and lettering that was scattered all the way down to his knuckles. So hot.

Dangerous, Cam. Dangerous.

“Then I guess I’d better find him.”

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