Page 18 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“OK, I’ll finish those coffees,” she says, manoeuvring my shirt back up over my shoulder.
She scurries from the room. I suspect with the job completed, she’s dropped out of nurse mode and shame at the damage she’s wrought on an innocent man is rearing its head. As it should.
I look down at my shirt still hanging loose, my chest and stomach exposed, and try to fumble at the buttons with my good arm. Seeing I’m losing the battle, Haley steps in front of me.
“Here,” she says, a tentative hand reaching for the flapping shirt front, her eyes not meeting mine. I’m sitting on the bed, legs spread wide, and she’s standing between them. My cock twitches, sensing her nearness. God, I’d love to pull her in close and crush her tight against me.
I tense under the brush of a dainty finger tracing my collarbone as she tugs the two pieces of fabric, fastening the top button. She’s taking it slowly. I’m sure it’s because she’s trying to avoid touching my skin as much as possible. But it’s merely having the effect of prolonging the process, and I’m not complaining. It’s like the delicious intimacy of slow undressing in reverse and I tingle all over.
The shirt is spread wider the lower she gets, and I shudder a little at the delicate fingertips which graze the skin at my waist as she draws the two sides together. Her eyes are on the job and feeling her focus on my body sends a surge of heat through me.
The final button doesn’t want to go, and the sensation of her hands working at it just above my navel has the hairs on my body standing to attention, not to mention what’s beneath. There’s nothing I can do to cover the fact she’s totally turning me on. I should be worried about this, but whether it’s the smack to the head, or the haze of pain in my arm, I’m beyond caring.
If Haley notices my hard-on, she gives no indication. Maybe shyness prevents her gaze from roving that low. I can’t meet her eyes to check.
“There, all done,” she says. There’s a bloom of colour in her face as she steps back, as if she’s as acutely aware of the arc of energy between us. Mine is blatant attraction. And hers?
I feel the absence of her from my space with a jolt of loss. I already miss her closeness, the caress of her hands, even though it wasn’t a touch of affection—or was it? It felt good to have her attend to my needs.
My other need is making its presence felt, uncomfortable in my jeans. I rise to my feet with the shirt buttoned, but hanging all loose. I’d love nothing better than to ask her to tuck it in for me. I imagine that little hand forcing itself into the waistband, the curve of it thrusting over my arse, or pushing down over my hip bones at the front. But the length of the shirt conveniently covers the even larger bulge in my pants produced by these thoughts.
No matter anyway, she’s already heading for the door.
“Let’s get that coffee,” she says.
The dogs, who’ve been sitting observing us with curiosity, bound out ahead of her, as if the invitation is for them.
Chapter 10
Day Three
I spot my laptopbag dumped on the hallway floor. Discarded in her haste to see the circus going on in the bedroom, Haley hasn’t mentioned the success of her mission. I scoop it up with my working arm and head for the dining room. It’s a challenge to haul it onto the table, unzip the case and flip the laptop open. Operating with one arm is already sending my frustration levels through the roof. I glare in annoyance at Sam’s back.
Stationed at the coffee machine in the kitchen opposite, she’s deep in hushed conversation with Haley standing next to her. I hear my name a couple of times, and I assume Haley is filling her in on the saga of me being here. I hope Sam’s as good at keeping her mouth shut as she is at slamming people to the ground.
I try to focus on getting this computer running. The sooner I can find those documents, the sooner I can begin on a plan. I hit the power button. It’s dead. I scan the room and spot a power outlet next to a sideboard behind me. I’m crouched down, fumbling to plug in the power cable, when I hear my name once more. This time I pay attention.
“Very easy on the eye,” Sam says, voice still low.
“Yeah, well, no surprise you’re only noticing now when you’re no longer trying to beat the shit out of him.”
“Just because he’s gorgeous doesn’t mean he’s harmless. Bad guys still come in pretty packaging.”
“Not this one. The inside matches the wrapping.”
“You like him.”
The teasing whisper sends a little thrill of anticipation. Haley’s delay in answering kills me. I dare to sneak a look as I slide back into a chair. She’s turned to lean against the counter, facing me, but head still tilted towards Sam. Her face is alight, and she’s nodding at her friend, her mouth turned up in a small grin.
“I knew it,” Sam hisses.
“Let’s say he grows on you.”
“Oh god, a man with a body like that—now that I know he’s harmless of course—I’d let him grow all over me. And me on him. Climb him like ivy.”
“Sam. Shhh. He’ll hear you.”
I stare extra hard at my laptop screen, forcing a frown of concentration, but inside I’m bursting. Three years. Three whole fucking years. That, and this ridiculous situation with the TV series, is what it’s taken for Haley Templeton to notice me as more than her brother’s friend. But that thought brings forward the looming presenceof Ollie and his inevitable disapproval, tarnishing the moment. I push him away, weighing the possibility of stealing another glance at Haley.
