A Little Bit of Christmas (Crystal Lake 3)

“Cash?”

He cleared his throat. “Tonight’s not going to happen, but I’ll try my best to get there for turkey dinner, okay?” He gentled his voice, and Blue said she’d call him first thing in the morning.

He gathered up his food and coffee and, with a wave to Joely, headed back to his room. He’d left it dark with the blinds closed and, once inside, carefully shucked off his clothes until he stood in nothing but his boxers. He needed a shower and a change into something clean before he ate and attempted to wake up the sleeping beauty in his bed.

Preoccupied with thoughts of his sister, Cash strode to the bathroom and yanked open the door. Steam hit him full in the face, and it took a few moments for his brain to compute what his eyes were transmitting.

Long, wet hair tangled around creamy shoulders.

Perfect breasts that glistened with drops of water.

A waist and hips that curved just like they were supposed to.

Long, long legs.

His gaze traveled back up, stopped for just a second at the juncture between those legs, and then up to the nasty bruises and imprint of a hand at her breast.

Chess held a towel but was frozen like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight. Her face was averted, but he could see her cheek was still swollen, her right eye puffy and laced with shades of purple and yellow.

“Oh,” she said, so softly he barely heard. She jerked the towel around her body and glanced up.

Cash thought the world tilted a little, maybe a lot, because suddenly, his knees felt like liquid, as if the bones and cartilage had given way, and he had to work to keep standing and not fall on his ass.

He looked straight into her eyes. He saw pain and despair, and for one second, they had a moment, because what he saw was a reflection of his own soul.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t…I thought you were still in bed.”

“Can you move, please?” she whispered, the towel now firmly secured.

She walked past Cash without a word and quietly closed the door behind her. He stepped into the shower that still smelled of Chess and, as the hot spray fell over him, closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart because it felt like the damn thing was going to beat right out of him.

But Cash couldn’t get the image out of his mind, of her naked, and broken, and looking so damn small, he would have given his left hand to make her pain go away. When was the last time he’d felt that way about anyone, save his sister?

He wasn’t sure he liked this. Caring for someone complicated things, and he barely knew this girl.

What the hell?

A Christmas miracle, Blue would say. And if she were here right now, she’d think that maybe, for a Scrooge like him, there was hope after all.

Chapter Five

Chess wanted to crawl into a corner and disappear. Or die. Or maybe walk out into the snowstorm never to be seen again.

She groaned and pulled on the plaid sleep pants Cash had given her the night before, along with the sweatshirt that pretty much drowned her. She had no choice. There wasn’t anything else for her to wear.

God, he’d taken a good long look at her, and she’d stood there like an idiot. Seriously. She should have held up a sign that said Naked Crazy Lady, come have a look. Hell, look all you want. I kinda like it.

Her cheeks burned at that thought because it moved in, real sneaky like. But it was true, wasn’t it? There was a moment, a second, maybe, when she felt something she’d never felt before. A shot of heat. A hint of desire. A connection. There was look in his eyes, like he could see into her soul. It was beyond physical attraction. Whatever, IT was.

It was gone almost as soon as it had come, and now she stood on the other side of the door, while he was in there…in the shower…naked.

Holy hell, the man was built.

She slammed her eyes shut but couldn’t get the image of him out of her mind. Cash standing inches from her in a pair of athletic boxers, the kind that did nothing but emphasize what it was supposed to be hiding. He was lean where he was supposed to be lean and muscled w

here it mattered, with defined abs and the kind of arms that promised shelter. He had a scar on his right pec and a tattoo underneath it, Sanskrit or something like that. He was beautiful in a way that wasn’t perfect, and dangerous in a way that made her weak.

If this were another time and place, and if she were a completely different person, she might let herself fantasize about Cash Bodine and what could be. A hot one-night stand? Why not? How long had it been since she’d been touched? Really touched? Or met anyone who made a sizzle erupt in her gut?