She’d touched him as if she wanted to touch him some more. Nothing impersonal about it. If he’d felt well enough, he would’ve returned the favor. Hauled her into his arms and held her close, kissed those sweet lush lips and thanked her for everything she did for him.
Yeah, but he’d been too out of it to do anything but enjoy it. Savor it.
Slowly he sat up, pushed the hair off his forehead. No more aches, no more weariness. He felt like a new man.
Chris climbed out of bed and switched on the lamp, blinked hard to bring everything into focus. He tipped back the blinds and peeked out the window, noticed it was still dark. Shuffling into the bathroom, he turned on the shower. A towel hung on the rack on the wall and he sniffed it, deemed it clean. He needed a shower just to feel like himself again. And then he was going right back to bed.
A quick and cool five-minute rinse-off was all it took. He dried himself quickly, found a giant bottle of mouthwash under the sink, and gargled with it to get the bad taste out of his mouth. He collapsed back into bed just as fast as he’d climbed out of it.
Then he heard the gentle knock on the door. His voice froze in his throat; he couldn’t find it to answer and the door swung open. The outline of her slender body shone in the entryway. She slowly walked into the room and he realized she had no idea she was dealing with a semi-coherent naked man.
“Chris?” Her soft voice twisted his insides, made certain parts of his body stand at attention, and he prayed for some sort of control. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. He sounded terrible. “I feel better.”
“Oh, good. Are you sure, though? That was really fast.” She rushed toward him, her cool, slim hand touched his forehead, the tips of her fingers like a caress against his skin. He shuddered.
He could barely make out what she wore, but it looked like some flannel pajama pants and T-shirt set. He wondered if she was wearing a bra beneath that shirt. His wayward thoughts were going to kill him if he didn’t watch it.
“You took a shower? I thought I heard you.”
“Yeah.” She kept touching him, fluttering her hand across his bare shoulder, and the urge to pick up that little hand and bring it to his mouth was overwhelming. “I feel a lot better.”
“You should go back to sleep and get more rest. I’ll leave you alone.”
“What time is it?” He didn’t want her to leave, not yet. He grabbed her by the wrist, slipped his hand into hers.
She didn’t leave—didn’t try to jerk her hand from his, either. “It’s a little past two thirty.”
“And you’re up?” He laced his fingers with hers, noticed how slim they were, long and elegant and so full of grace. Gentle and soothing, they knew just how to touch to make a person feel good.
They made him feel good.
“I heard the water running and figured it must’ve been you,” she said.
He jerked on her hand, urging her closer. “Sit down.”
“W-where?” Her whisper was small, almost sounded scared, but he ignored it.
He wanted her closer. And he would have her closer, too, damn it. Despite her protests, despite how both of them continued to claim they wanted nothing beyond friendship, the chemistry between them had grown too large to ignore.
He was tired of fighting it.
“Right here, on the edge of the bed.” He scooted over, giving her room, and she sat, her body warmth seeping into him, the curve of her bottom so close, so tempting.
“Christian. You need to go back to sleep,” she urged.
“In a minute. Let me thank you first.” How did he want to thank her? Well, he could think of a few ways. But would she let him?
There was only one way to find out.
“You’re welcome.” She nudged at his shoulder again with her free hand and curled her fingers around him. Damn, if he didn’t become aroused at her simple touch. “Now go back to sleep.”
“Join me,” he murmured, and he swore he heard her gasp.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.” He paused, squeezed her hand before he brought it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “Join me.”