Page 81 of You Were Never Not Mine

She automatically does as I say, shrugging out of the dress and letting it fall to the ground in a heap of sequins. She kicks it away from her feet, standing there naked in the middle of the bathroom, only wearing the shoes. Reminding me of when she was naked, save for those hideous gold stilettos.

“Sin.” I approach her carefully, my movements slow. She barely looks at me. “Are you all right?”

“I’m mortified.” She ducks her head, and fuck, she sounds so sad. “I basically demanded you take me on a date and I end up ruining everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” I reach for her, curling my fingers around her upper arms, holding her gently. “Look at me.”

She barely lifts her gaze to mine, her humiliation obvious, but she doesn’t say a word.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She shrugs, looking away. “You’re intimidating, August. Sometimes you make me nervous.”

Remaining quiet, I lean in closer to her, pressing my lips to her forehead, wanting to ease her distress. I remain there, breathing her in for a moment, running my fingers up and down the back of her arms. Steam from the shower slowly filters throughout the room, fogging up the massive mirror, and I start to sweat.

From the hot water. From my fragile feelings for this girl. Comforting people is not my forte. I have no idea how to handle a situation like this, so all I can do is wing it.

“I’m not.” I keep my voice low, my gaze level on hers once they lock. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

She gives a barely-there nod acknowledging my suggestion and I help her out of her shoes and into the shower, tempted to join her but no. I can’t push myself on her when she’s feeling so raw. Instead, I leave her alone and try my best to accommodate her every need once she’s finished. Like leaving the towels close to the shower so she can easily grab them. I set out a brand-new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste I find in a drawer. I even find a bottle of fragrant body lotion in the drawer and set it on the counter, hoping she likes the scent.

After I leave one of my T-shirts for her to wear on the counter, I exit the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Exhaling loudly and running my hands through my hair a few times as I pace the length of my bedroom.

I’ve never been in a situation like this before and I feel…inept. Helpless. I want to make sure I’m taking care of her needs, but I have zero clue if I know how to do that. I can’t read her mind and I’ve certainly never cared enough about another human—woman—to want to take care of them in every way I can. I hated how sad she seemed. How defeated. Am I responsible for her feeling that way?

God, maybe I can’t be fixed. I’m a complete asshole and I’m just going to have to deal with it. Live with it.

Which means Sinclair is going to have to live with it too. Will she want to? Or will she tell me to go straight to hell?

I’d deserve the hell comment. I really would.

Irritation flows through my veins and I let go of my hair, resting my hands on my hips as I study the closed bathroom door. I’m tempted to bust into the room and beg her forgiveness for being such a prick. But I don’t.

Instead, I collapse on the edge of the bed and hang my head, resting my arms on my knees and studying the pristine carpet. This apartment is untouched. No one uses it except the house cleaning company who comes in once a week and does a quick tidy up. It’s cold in here. Soulless.

Like me.

Chapter Thirty-Six

SINCLAIR

The shower is just what I need to cleanse my body and my wayward thoughts. Throwing up is one of my least favorite things to do in the world, and knowing that I did it in front of August while he held my hair away from my face and murmured soft, soothing words in my ear is something I might never be able to live down. Not that I think he’d give me any grief over it. Or maybe he would? I’m not sure. When it comes to August, I’m always unsure. But in this particular instance…

I’m the one beating myself up over the most humiliating moment of my life. Could it get any worse? Well, I could’ve pukedonhim. He probably would’ve freaked out. Been absolutely disgusted with me, pushed me onto public transit and told me to find my own way home.

Instead, he brought me back to his luxurious apartment and now I’m standing in his equally luxurious shower.

The water pressure is perfect, as is the temperature, and I stand under the nozzle for far too long. Until my skin grows wrinkly and I start to feel like a drowned rat. I turn the water offand open the door to find two thick, fluffy towels sitting on the edge of the counter. I grab one and wrap it around my head, trying to squeeze the excess water out before I grab the other towel and begin to dry off my body.

I sag with relief when I spot the toothbrush and toothpaste waiting for me by the sink. I brush my teeth for far longer than necessary, desperate to get the lingering nasty taste out of my mouth. Once I’m done, I grab the bottle of body lotion and flip the cap, breathing deep its delicious floral scent and lather up my skin with it. Careful not to think about who this bottle of body lotion belongs to and why it’s here.

That’s none of my business.

I brush my hair and then slip on the black T-shirt August left for me to wear, disappointed to find it doesn’t smell like him at all. Truthfully? I’m addicted to his scent. His warmth. The words he said to me earlier still ring in my head and I can’t believe we’re at this point in our—relationship? Do we actually have one?

According to him, I think we do. Or at the very least, we’re on the cusp of one.

I’m a little freaked out at the thought of facing him. He’s just on the other side of the closed door, waiting for me, and I hope he’s not disappointed. What if the car is still waiting downstairs and he sends me on my way? He might. Talk about a horrible night.

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