If I Need You (If You Come Back To Me 5)

He had to rise early to fly a DuBois executive from San Francisco to Houston. He’d been forced to wait two hours before being cleared for takeoff in Houston, chomping at the bit the whole time for his return to Michigan.

To Faith.

The interior of the house was bright and warm when he entered. “Faith?” he called, his voice trailing off at the utter silence of the house. He walked out of the foyer and immediately saw her curled up on the couch. He approached her cautiously, a smile tugging at his mouth when he noticed Topsy tucked next to her body, both of them taking the even, shallow breaths of sleep.

He sat down at the end of the couch, careful that his movements wouldn’t wake her. He sank into the cushion with a restrained sigh, his tired muscles relaxing at last. Faith hadn’t changed since she’d returned home from the office. He’d noticed that she tended to only wear the tailored, knee-length skirts for work. Her bare legs looked smooth, pale and shapely next to the taupe fabric of the couch. The bottoms of her feet looked feminine and pink and...extremely touchable.

He’d promised not to touch her, though, he recalled with a stab of grim disappointment. Instead he grabbed the decorative pillow wedged behind his back and the couch and wrapped his arms around it. It was nowhere near as warm as Faith, or as soft, or as shapely.

But it’d have to do.

* * *

Faith felt Topsy’s warm body moving and shifted, stretching her legs. Her feet were chilly. She sunk almost immediately back into sleep.

When she finally pried open her eyelids a while later, the light outside the window had dimmed. It was early evening. Her intended catnap had turned into a two-hour deep sleep. She felt so warm and cozy, she was tempted to get up and go back to her bed.

She lifted her head off the pillow and started. She blinked, bringing her sleepy eyes into focus, assuring herself she saw what she thought she was seeing. Ryan came into clearer view. He sat at the end of the couch, his long, jean-covered legs sprawled before him. Topsy had abandoned her only to relocate next to him. The puppy snuggled against his hip, her nose pressed next to his thigh. Faith’s feet were in his lap, his hand draped over her toes in a relaxed grip. Her eyes widened when she saw—and felt—just how intimately her feet were pressed against the fly of his jeans.

She started to extricate her feet from the compromising position, but paused when Ryan’s head moved on the back of the couch. She froze. She vaguely recalled stretching her feet earlier and finding a warm crevice in which to snuggle them.

To her rising horror, she saw Ryan open his eyes.

For a few tense seconds they just stared at each other, unmoving. His heat seemed to amplify beneath her, resonating into her feet. His hand tightened as if convulsively over her toes, then loosened.

Faith jerked her feet out of his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice sounding sleep-roughened and sexy. He blinked, as if clearing his vision. “I drifted off when I got home. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Neither did I,” Faith said, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. She swung her feet to the floor and sat up, avoiding his gaze. “How long...I mean...when did you get home?” she asked awkwardly, running her fingers through her hair.

“About an hour ago, I think.”

Topsy made a sound between a grunt and a whine. Faith turned. Topsy was blinking sleepily. Ryan was watching her face with a narrow-eyed stare.

“I didn’t...” He glanced down toward his lap, clearly uncomfortable. “It was... Your feet were just there when I woke up.”

“I know,” she said, standing, suddenly wishing she were anywhere but there. “I know you didn’t do it. I think I did. Sleeping...feet cold,” she mumbled stupidly before she grabbed her pumps and rushed out of the living room to the safety of her bedroom.

&n

bsp; * * *

She felt so discombobulated by the experience, so vulnerable, that she closed her bedroom door and drew a hot bath. She took her time bathing, trying to piece together her discordant feelings about Ryan...her attraction to him, her uncontrollable desire...her fear of getting hurt.

An hour later she stood at the mirror in her bathroom, brushing her hair. A soft knock came at her door. She glanced around, her eyes going wide and her heartbeat escalating. She stood there for several seconds, undecided about whether or not she should answer. If she remained quiet, Ryan might assume she was sleeping and go away.

She grabbed her robe and hurriedly shoved her arms into the sleeves, then opened the door. He stood in the dim hallway, still dressed as he had been when they’d awakened on the couch. He looked at her from below a lowered brow.

“I got you a salad from the deli. It’s in the fridge,” he said quietly.

“Oh, thank you. But I’m not very hungry.”

“You should eat.”

“Maybe later,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze flickering over her. “I think I’ll go for a jog and try to get to bed early. Big day tomorrow.”