Page 17 of Royally Ruined

My eyes shot to the shower.Well, I did tell him I was cleaning up.

I’d probably showered for too long—the mirror was solid white from steam—but the burning water had been soothing. I wrapped my hair in a towel, dried off, and slipped regretfully back into my clothes from earlier.

Snapping my bra on, I stared at Costello’s jacket on the doorknob.Should I wear it?Biting my lip, I crossed my arms.It’s that or a towel. Or nothing.Wouldn’t that be a sight? Gina might have the balls to do something so over-the-top, but I wasn’t sure I did.

Sighing, I brushed my fingers over the jacket’s leather sleeve.Okay, be honest, you want to wear it again.It wasn’t my fault I enjoyed it; it was warm and expensive and it smelled so damngood.

I scooped it up and zipped it into place. Instantly I felt better ... safer? Was that the word?It’s because it belongs to the guy a few feet away who promised to protect me.It was really weird to think about Costello Badd as a good guy—but for now he’d shown he was.

I hoped that remained true.

“Hey,” I said, stepping into the colder air of the main room. He was reclining on the bed, somehow looking as if he belonged on the green-and-gold blankets that probably cost less than the socks on his feet.

I had a feeling he could be comfortable anywhere, if he wanted to.

His eyes darted to me. “You showered.”

Placing my palm on the towel on my head so it wouldn’t fall off, I nodded. “Kind of needed it.”

His arms unfurled from behind his head. He swung his knees over, then stood and approached me. The steam was at my back, but the closer he got to my front, the more I felt likethatwas where all the heat in the world was coming from. “Was it hot?” he asked.

I blinked. “Hwa?”

“The water. Was it hot?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I stood aside so he could pass. “I didn’t use it all up, I don’t think.”

He bobbed his head once and closed the door without another word. I was left alone in that tiny room with nothing but a bed and a TV from the early eighties. There was silence; then the shower hissed to life. I heard it through the walls, realizing this motel lacked soundproofing.You can hear everything,I thought in surprise.

Costello’s belt buckle jingled. Then came the cloth-rustle of his shirt ... his shoes ... his pants. I could hear him stripping down. Burning with uncertain excitement, I hovered by the bathroom door.I’m being a megacreep. A real weirdo.In spite of my own insults I still stood there forwaytoo long.

It wasn’t until I heard the shower curtain sliding on the porcelain, then Costello’s thick groan of pleasure as the hot water rained on him, that I backed away. I moved so fast I half fell onto the bed when I hit it with the backs of my knees.

Sitting heavily, I squeezed the blanket under me. “Dammit,” I whispered. Maybe I should have taken a cold shower instead.

Settling onto the bed, I turned my cheek into the rough pillows. They were worn out, probably needed a good washing, but when I inhaled ... I smelledhim. Costello had been resting here, on a bed that was barely big enough for two people.

Not that itneededto be big enough for two.

It wasn’t like we were going to do anything.

Not one bit.

Curling up, I hugged my knees and yawned.Maybe I should sleep on the floor. I AM acting like a dog, after all. But it’s not my fault, I thought through my growing sleep fog.He just looks ... and smells ... so good ...

There was a metallic click. My eyelashes fluttered as I rolled over enough to glance at the bathroom. I’d been dozing, but now I was hyperawake.

Costello was standing within arm’s reach, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I’d imagined his body would look good naked, but I’d been wrong.

It lookedfucking amazing.

Black and red ink swirled over the hard muscles of his chest. There were stars, birds, writing, all sorts of symbols. I couldn’t help but notice the crisp drawing of a crown on the right side of his rib cage. The closer I looked, the more I noticed other things, too:

Scars. So many scars.

He was a mural of delicious art and old wounds, a landscape I wanted to explore. Especially the half of him hidden by the towel.

His hair was still damp; a droplet coasted down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. There was a swatch of raised goose bumps on each of his forearms. When I sat up, my own towel tumbling free from my hair, I experienced the chill in the air and understood.

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