‘Can you stand by yourself?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’ But when he whipped his arm away, Sophie had to grab for the basin to stay upright.
She felt him move away and relief seeped through her weary bones. He’d helped when she needed assistance, but he was a total stranger. As soon as she’d had just a few minutes to gather her strength, she’d make him leave. Her grip on the vanity unit grew desperate as she forced herself to stand straighter.
Was that water running?
She swung round, then wished she hadn’t when dizziness swept her. It was a fight to stay standing, even with the vanity unit to lean against.
It was his hands on her clothes that jerked her out of her stupor. The brush of his knuckles as he unbuttoned her blouse. She swatted at his hands but he was too deft. The blouse was already hanging open as he reached round to unzip her skirt.
With a surge of frantic strength she pushed him away with both hands, only to find it wasn’t fine wool suiting under her hands, or crisp cotton, but the warm contours of a solid male chest.
What the …?
Dampness hazed his olive skin and his muscles rippled under her hands. She pushed again and felt the tickle of chest hairs against her palms, shooting sensations of pure pleasure through her body. But it was like pushing at a brick wall for all the impact she made. It was an impressive chest.
Right now she was scared, not admiring. Her breath caught on a harsh sob of fear as she tried desperately to thrust him away.
‘Leave me alone!’ Her voice was breathless, wavering. ‘Get out of here now or I’ll call the police.’
He ignored her completely, bending instead to tug her pan-tihose down her legs. His insistent pressure on first one ankle and then the other allowed him to strip it off. If only her coordination hadn’t deserted her she might have put up a better resistance.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he snarled when she aimed a clumsy punch at him and managed to graze his cheek as he straightened. His dark gaze raked her with such disgust that she almost believed him.
She was cradling her fist when he pulled her up and over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her.
She slumped, disoriented against him, flesh to flesh. The room whirled around her, as dizzying as the blatantly masculine scent of his bare skin. She felt raw heat, rigid bone and muscle, the brush of his hair against her side as he swung her round.
Then, without warning, he slid her down his torso and onto her feet. Straight into a blast of water from the shower. The full force of it hit her back, then her head.
‘What …?’
Wet hair streamed down her face, half-blinding her. The pounding water was so heavy it hurt. All that kept her there was the strength of his hands on her shoulders, holding her up and away from him. She swayed and his grip tightened, but he kept her at arm’s length.
His dark eyes were unreadable, gleaming with an inner fire. His face was harsh, his jaw set like stone. It was a face Sophie didn’t have the energy to deal with right now.
She sagged, her knees loosening, as the water slowly brought her body back to weary, tingling life. Her head fell forward, drooping under the weight of water and of growing consciousness.
This grim-faced stranger thought she needed sobering up, she realised with a fleeting twist of dark amusement. Maybe he thought she’d come close to overdosing. Why else would they both be in the shower in their underwear?
At another time, in another life, she might have thought this scene humorous or embarrassing. Or even provocative. She in white lace bra and panties. The Greek god with the inscrutable eyes and the magnificent body clad in nothing but black briefs.
But not today.
Today was Saturday, she realised, her mind clearing completely as the searing pain of remembrance tore through her chest. No wonder she felt like hell. Yesterday had been the worst day of her life.
‘I’m all right now,’ she mumbled. ‘You can get out.’
Silence.
‘I said I’m all right.’ She lifted her head and met his stare. If it weren’t for the blast of warm water sluicing down she would have shivered at the icy chill of his unwavering gaze.
‘You don’t look it,’ he said brutally. ‘You look like you need medical attention. I’ll take you to the hospital and they can—’
‘What? Pump my stomach?’ She blinked at him through the water and wet hair plastering her face. Outrage warred with exhaustion, holding her motionless but for the tremor in her legs. ‘Look, I took a couple of sleeping tablets and obviously they didn’t agree with me. That’s all.’
‘How many exactly?’