Page 54 of The Saint

The house was warm. The lights were off. He reached behind her and shut the door. Her eyes shut for the moment he leaned close. He smelled familiar to her. A wild twenty-four hours had passed. It actually felt like it could have been days, and during that time, she had hugged him, lain by him, even dragged him by his arm. She knew the way he smelled, and it melted away her anxiety. He towered over her, and for a delirious, dreamlike second, she imagined him closing their distance, pressing her against the door, and erasing every trouble. He could kiss her, touch her, do whatever he wanted to her, and she would bask in his attention like a woman starved.

“Doing okay?”

Oh my God. No, she wasn’t. Her heart stopped beating. She tucked her chin, embarrassed. Fantasizing about this man would lead to disaster. Beth would never work with Amelia without Camden, and Camden would never work with her if he knew what was continually plaguing her imagination.

He touched her chin. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Why did the quiet rasp of his words have to roll over her like that? Amelia steeled herself and raised her face. He looked at her as though trying to read her soul. The intensity made his dark, smoldering eyes shine. “What’s bothering you?”

Her lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen. “The day’s just catching up with me.”

He scrutinized her a moment longer then nodded and tossed the house keys to himself. “You sure?”

She nodded.

Camden let out a long breath and hung the keys on the hook by the door. “I gotta take a shower.”

He hurried into the dark living room and scooped up the football from the couch.

She couldn’t help feeling he had read her thoughts and was unhappy or irritated. Then again, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to shower and change into fresh clothes. Theirs had air-dried while meeting with Beth. Her pants and shirt were stiff and uncomfortable. “I’ll do the same.” But she didn’t head upstairs and noticed Camden didn’t turn around, which worried her. “Then maybe we grab food later?”

“Sounds like a plan.” But he still didn’t turn around. Camden stalked around the kitchen, tossing the football, instead of using the downstairs bathroom to shower.

She bit her lip but returned to her bedroom—well, his bedroom that he was loaning her. His temporary bedroom, where the sheets and pillow didn’t smell like him and the walls were bare of personality. What did his real home look like?

Amelia undressed and stepped into the shower. It was high-end and luxurious. Water could spray from any direction she wanted. The floors and towel rack were heated, and the mirrors barely fogged. This house had more tricks up its sleeve than the weapons it hid in the closets. Once her life was untangled and Hailey was home safe, Amelia might invest in a bathroom renovation.

She stayed under the hot water until she was worried none would be left for Camden, then she wrapped her hair and herself in warm towels of thick cotton. She slathered on face cream and opened the bathroom door. Cold air rolled in. Laying her change of clothes on the towel heater would have been a genius move. She decided to warm up under the covers before donning an outfit for dinner. Amelia pulled back the sheets and closed her eyes. She would stay there only long enough to adjust to the bedroom temperature.

Camden crept up the stairs, silently cursing his lack of forethought. “Amelia?” he whispered.

She was asleep, he was sure. He’d heard the water turn off well before he took his own shower downstairs. There hadn’t been a peep from her since.

The door was cracked.

“Amelia?”

The November sun had set. The drawn windows were dark. Only a slice of light from the bathroom illuminated the room. She was asleep with a towel wrapped around her hair and the covers pulled up to her chin.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he crept to the small chest of drawers.

“Cam?”

Shit.“Just grabbing clean clothes. I’ll be out in a minute.”

A mirror on the dresser reflected the room at his back. Amelia sat up. The hair towel wobbled, and she pulled it down. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders. “God, I’m freezing.”

He forced his eyes to the drawers, pulled out his needed clothes, and unintentionally saw her reflection again. Amelia wriggled with the covers and removed a second towel. “I fell asleep in a damp towel.”

Jesus fucking Christ.That wasn’t what he needed to see or hear. He’d all but kissed her when they walked inside and had to walk away from her without looking back. His heart thumped in his chest. Between the two of them, a towel and blanket were all that kept them decent. All of the blood in his body was going to his cock, and he needed to focus on getting the hell out of that room.

She wrapped herself in the comforter and scooted to the edge of the bed. Her eyes met his in the mirror. “Can I wear something comfy of yours?” Her gaze drifted down his back before jerking to the wall, making his pulse pound harder. She added on, explaining, “I didn’t bring any lounge-around-the-house clothes.”

Her in his clothes? He liked that, too, which wasn’t helpful. But a clothed Amelia was much,muchbetter than her nearly naked and an arm’s reach away. He needed to treat her like a client. No, actually, he needed to treat her like a victim because that was what she was, no matter if they were “working” on her goose chase.

Camden licked his bottom lip, refocused, and nodded. He chose a T-shirt but didn’t know what to do for pants. Several clothing options were probably stocked in the closet for people who used the safe house, but again, he thought of her in his clothes and didn’t offer to look. He selected his mostcomfortable gray sweatpants and turned. “You could probably roll these on your waist to make them fit.”

The safest option was to throw the shirt and pants at her and haul ass downstairs. The tightness in his chest made it loud and clear that wasn’t what he really wanted to do. Camden should’ve put on the dirty clothes after his shower and stayed downstairs.

---