Then she let the water sluice over her as if she was under the most luxuriant waterfall in the world—and breathed.
By the time she had finished, blasting her hair quickly with the courtesy dryer before slipping into the soft pair of charcoal yoga pants and cropped tee that she had brought, Bridget felt new again. Happier.
More in control.
Until the soft knock at the door set her chest fluttering all over again.
Not so in control after all, she thought wryly.
Padding across the room, she drew in a deep breath and opened the door. Even before he entered the room, it felt to Bridget as though the walls were sliding in, making the space feel smaller and more cramped.
No. Not cramped. Full.
Hayden filled the space. Just as his very presence filled her chest with something she had never experienced before and couldn’t identify even if she’d wanted to—though she didn’t want to.
She didn’t want to admit that, at twenty-six years of age, she had never experienced anything quite like it before. She’d heard about it from friends, of course. Even read about it in the books they shared around the medical camps, thrilling in the happy-ever-after stories that offered them a glorious escape for as long as they stayed lost in the pages.
But she had never experienced it. Not even close. She hadn’t even believed it really existed. And then she’d met Hayden, and he’d upended everything she’d held to be true.
‘I’ll just pack my things back up and I’ll get out of your way,’ she managed, trying not to scurry across the room.
‘You don’t have to feel awkward,’ he told her softly.
She had to be imagining it to think there was a hint of triumph in his tone.
‘Of course I feel awkward,’ she retorted, her voice clipped but not quite enough to disguise the tremor in it.
She felt like a drowning woman struggling to break the surface and grab deep lungfuls of air.
‘I let us...myself...get carried away in that club.’ She made herself say the words, as ugly as they were. ‘I did things I’ve never done before with anyone...and then you rejected me.’
Something flared in those Baltic blue pools, and it almost pulled her straight back under.
‘No one else?’
‘You think I make a habit of it?’ She gritted her teeth.
Hayden didn’t answer, he merely stood straighter and folded his arms across his chest, as though planting himself in place.
Why? Because he wasn’t tempted...or because he was?
The questions chased one after another through her head—no matter how much she tried to squash them.
‘Forget it,’ she blurted out, reaching for her things, her hands shaking. ‘I should go.’
‘Wait.’ It was a command. Low but unequivocal, and she found herself straightening slowly. Obeying. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I did not reject you.’
‘Please.’ She tried to stay neutral but knew that self-disgust and shame had made her pull a face. ‘You couldn’t get out of there fast enough.’
He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to argue. That his silence was going to confirm her fears. She felt wrecked, and lost, and wholly confused.
And then his expression changed. Softened. As though he couldn’t help himself.
‘You’re wrong, Birdie. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough because I was about to lose my head. I did lose my head. I forgot where we were and nearly took you right there, against the wall in that club, you remember?’
She remembered. Oh, how she remembered.
How they hadn’t been caught was a miracle and yet, even now, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped if he hadn’t.