Page 98 of Finding New Dreams

Walking me backward into the shower, he growled, “I know a way we can both win.”

* * *

And win we did.

I’d never had a shower like that. With a man washing my hair, my body, waking up every one of my senses, from the minty soap to the slippery feel of our bodies.

Cozied up in my bathrobe again, I shivered at the new memory.

We lounged on the bed, waiting for room service. Flynn’s head rested in my lap while I played with his long, wet hair.

“Oh, I meant to ask you something when I was washing your hair,” I said. “But you kept distracting me.”

His chuckle rumbled against my thighs. “You can’t expect me to kneel in front of you and not get distracted myself.”

I smiled. “I guess not. But I wanted to ask about your tattoo. I first noticed it that one night at my apartment. When you took off your shirt.”

“I remember.”

“What does it mean?”

He sat up and shrugged out of his bathrobe until it fell around his waist. Reaching back, he took my hand and guided it to his tattooed skin.

I traced my fingers over the design, and he let out a contented sigh.

“I got it a few years after leaving Tangled River,” he said. “I was really homesick for some odd reason. L.A. was so different, which was usually a good thing, but I missed the…the feel of Tangled River. Its nature. People.”

The giant tree that spread over his shoulders did look like the ones I’d seen by the river. I trailed my fingers down its trunk over his spine, to where a river flowed over his lower back.

“I don’t see any people here,” I murmured.

He chuckled. “Well, I don’t exactly want Wyatt’s or Old Meryl’s mug on there, do I? It was more the feeling I wanted to carry with me. Having a snapshot of Tangled River to carry with me was comfort enough.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I miss it sometimes.”

I swallowed hard. “You should visit more. Chloe would love it,” I added quickly.

“And you? How would you feel, Rose?”

My heart stuttered, trying to find an answer. After he left, if he came back once in a while, it would be…torture. Knowing everything I knew about him. His quick smirk, his skilled hands, his spicy sandalwood scent, the way he said my name, the way he held me, kissed me, made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

How could I know all that and also know I couldn’t have it again whenever I saw him? Unless that was what he was asking. To be an in-town booty call whenever he visited.

But that couldn’t happen. I’d have to move on after our time together.

My throat tightened. Much like his shoulders.

Suddenly, he twisted around, his jaw tense. Worry lined his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” His lips hovered close to mine. “Rose?”

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him with every feeling I couldn’t put into words. He kissed me back so hard my lips ached. And I loved it. Like he was tattooing his memory to my skin.

A moment later, room service knocked.

We enjoyed a massive breakfast of scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, buttered toast, flaky and sugared pastries, and half a dozen cheeses. We also drank every drop of ice water and orange juice.

Somewhere between us tossing grapes into each other’s mouths and him licking huckleberry jam off my finger, we relaxed again. Talking and laughing like our time wasn’t limited.

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