Page 39 of Mending Hearts

I was screwed. Between the vulnerable look on her face and the dewy dampness of her pale skin, this version of Mia would be seared like a tattoo in my mind. Permanent. Unforgettable. God, I wanted her, and I hated myself for feeling that way right now with the night she’d had.

“You okay?”

She tucked her wet hair behind her ears with her free hand, the other keeping the towel secure around her. “Yeah, I—I probably overreacted.”She looked down at herself. “I saw all the blood, and I knew… I thought…”

I didn’t know what to say. When I asked earlier if she’d been afraid, she avoided the question. Fear would mean she cared, and I didn’t want to push her harder to admit her feelings if she wasn’t ready. She had to be ready.

When she glanced up, she cocked her head, her gaze full of almost playful curiosity. “Are you changing my sheets? I have someone who’ll do that, you know.”

I’d forgotten I was holding them, and I chuckled. “I was trying to figure out if I should sleep on the floor or the couch out there.” I jerked my thumb toward the front of the bus. “I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”

She sashayed into the bedroom over to a chest of drawers and let her towel drop to the floor. “Neither.”

All my good intentions burst through every closed window of the bus. I’d seen her naked before, and then there were glimpses of her during every show. But that was different—we were working, surrounded by other people. This was the opposite of that, and every part of me strained at the seams. I moved the sheets in my hand a little lower to conceal what had sprung to attention.

Over her shoulder, she cast a long gaze at me before opening one of the drawers and pulling out a wisp of fabric, tugging it over her head. The pale-pink silk slid along her body. I’d never seen anything sexier. Normally, lingerie looked best on the floor, but this was definitely vying for first place in my memory. That tilt-a-whirl feeling was back but for a very different reason.

“Neither?” My voice was rough with need.

Her palms slid down her body, smoothing out the negligee, drawing it tight against her.

Sweet Jesus. I was in trouble.

She dragged her hair around to rest on her shoulder and flexed her hands. Strange to witness the insecurity creep in as soon as she had clothes on. The thought grounded me, re-centered my desire. However beautiful the outside package was, she needed more from a man than lust, even if she didn’t know it.

“I can go back to my own bus, if you’ve changed your mind.” I was sure that hadn’t been her intention when she’d said she didn’t want me on the floor or the couch, but would she admit it? Would she let herself need me more tonight?

With a fluff of her long hair, she went over to the bed and threw back the covers, crawling in. “The bed is big—a king. You don’t even have to touch me if you don’t want to.” She turned on her side, her back to me. “Up to you.”

Being around her was like being showered with heat and then having someone suddenly turn on the cold water. Burnt or frozen. There didn’t seem to be anything in between. “Maybe I should shower.” I’d been so sweaty when she called, and now that we were back here and things were calmer, I worried I stank.

“I already told you. You smell like jasmine. Those lollipops are lodged in your pores.” She glanced over her shoulder. “There are worse smells.”

Not the most enthusiastic invitation I’d ever gotten, but I knew Mia well enough to understand it was the best I’d get from her tonight. Crossing to the closet, I put the sheets back and gave her one last considering look. Then, I dropped my pants, shed my shirt, and flicked off the light. Darkness descended so completely I was disoriented for a moment.

“You take this whole lights-out thing seriously,” I muttered.

“Weird hours. Weird sleep patterns. I like total darkness.”

I heard her shift in the bed while I fumbled for the edge and slid in behind her. Once I was settled, I listened to her breathing. She’d had a hell of a day. “You okay?”

“No, but I’ll survive. I’m a survivor.”

“What can I do?” Even though it was pitch-black, I turned my head, wishing I could see her face, gauge whether she was telling the truth.

“Would you—” She turned in the bed, and I caught a whiff of lemon and ginger. The sickness had mostly passed for her, but she still stole lollipops whenever she saw the lemon-and-ginger ones. “Will you hold me?”

Her breath brushed against my cheek, and I wrapped my arm around her, drawing her into my chest. Her cheek rested against my bare skin and her fingernail traced slow circles around my nipple. After she’d circled it three or four times, I was so hard I was considering a shower for a different reason. I gathered her hand in mine, stopping the slow madness.

“I thought you liked that. You did last time.”

My chuckle was strained. “Things were a bit different between us then.”

“’Cause I seemed glamorous and not like damaged goods.” She drew her hand back and tried to turn away, but I tightened my grip.

“That’s not what I said. Not what I meant. If we go down this road, sex means more now. There’s more at stake.”

“Sure, cause the stakes ended up being so low last time.”

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