Bren re-enters the room carrying fresh towels and a flannel shirt.
“I can’t find any of Heidi’s things you can use,” he says. “Just bathing suits and a couple of old Halloween costumes.” He holds out a hand. “Don’t ask. Me and Dan, we don’t go there.”
It’s all white noise. Bren is still naked, not that he has anything to be embarrassed about. That T-build, those muscles, and the eight-pack of abs are hard to ignore.
I do my best and focus on his forehead.
He rubs his head, appearing confused. “Blood?” he asks.
“What?”
“You’re looking at my forehead, Emme. Did I get cut up or something?”
“You’re fine.” Don’t look down, don’t look down, do not look…oh…my.
“How about a shower?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, a little too eagerly.
“Em? You all right? No offense, but I’m thinking you’re coming down with hypothermia. Get a hot shower and take some time to heal yourself. You can use Danny’s bathroom. It’s cleaner than mine.”
Bren drops the towels and shirt in my arms and leads me into Danny’s suite. As he bends to start the water, I have to cover my mouth to keep my tongue from lolling to the tiled floor.
“I’ll shower too and fix some grub. You want some?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
Bren lifts his head slowly and glances at me over his shoulder. He looks scared and possibly thinking I’m brain damaged from the fight.
“Tea,” I answer quickly. “Tea would be lovely.”
My response satisfies him enough to leave me unattended. I watch him exit the bathroom, angling my body to steal one last look at him before he shuts the door tight.
I can’t keep my eyes off him.
I step into the shower and try to focus on healing my injuries and the damaging effects of almost drowning (twice!).
On the dock, I only tended to my most pressing injuries. There wasn’t time for all the scattered and throbbing bruises claiming my muscles or for the burning cuts that sliced my scalp and skin. I needed to be well enough to speak to my family, and of course to Genevieve.
The hot water allows me to relax and simply breathe. Beneath the spray, the stress disappears, permitting my touch to pass along my beaten form and alleviate my pain.
It doesn’t take long. It also doesn’t take long for my thoughts to return to Bren.
As I lather my skin with soap, I wonder what it would feel like for Bren’s rough hands to pass along my body. Would his strength be brutal and sweet in all the best ways? Or would my very presence cause him to turn away.
His rejection would cast the last bitter slap. Just as his attention would vanquish all the hurt and terror that pummeled us.
The more I fantasize about being with Bren, the more I desire it as my reality.
The worst he could do is say no. It would embarrass me, but it wouldn’t end our friendship. We’ve known each for so long, after all. And sometimes friends can become the best lovers.
I climb out of the shower and dry off, pausing with the towel pressed against my chest. I made my decision.
I’m going to make love to Bren.
A swipe at the mirror reveals my post-fight face. The hot shower returned the pink tones to my cheeks and lips. A little lip gloss would help and maybe a swipe or two of mascara. But my purse with all its contents was lost, as well as my shoes.
It doesn’t matter. We survived, even when we thought we wouldn’t. Right now, I feel the best that I will ever be. I am alive. And I am with Bren.
I slip on Bren’s comfy flannel shirt and take a deep breath, passing through Danny’s bedroom and into the living room.
Bren sits on his well-loved leather couch. On the ottoman in front of him, two barren plates rest atop of a tray beside an almost empty glass of water. He’s polishing off what’s left of a sandwich in a pair of cotton shorts and nothing else. His hair remains damp from the shower, curling the mounds of his wavy strands extra tight.
Bren is hot. A ruggedly handsome brute of a male I can’t wait to touch.
He looks up to find me smiling. Instead of returning my smile, he simply stares, his cheeks puffed from the rather large bite in his mouth. Appearing more werechipmunk than wolf, I can’t help but giggle. He swallows hard, practically choking.
I hurry into the kitchen to refill his glass, pressing my hand into the water dispenser of his stainless-steel refrigerator as the tea kettle whistles.
Bren
Emme shouldn’t be here. Not with that smile and not all naked except for my shirt.
The flannel, it’s too big on her. Except it might as well be a thong with how good she looks in it.
When she walked in, I couldn’t stop staring at her face. Now, I can’t keep my eyes off her ass.
My wolf (okay, me too, a’ight?) watch her intently as she shuts off the stove and reaches for a mug in the cupboard. The edge of the flannel trails up her backside, higher and higher, as she stretches onto the tips of her toes.
Shit.
She’s not wearing panties.
The hell?
I’m not going to make it.
No way am I not going to have sex with her.
I growl. Get it together, man; this is Emme, not some one-night stand.
Emme tosses her hair as she looks behind her. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head like a stupid mutt. It’s the only thing I can do right now. Emme flashes another smile and returns to the living room. Using care, she places a glass of water and her cup of tea on the tray. She pauses, her features tender as she eases onto the couch beside me.
With her eyes locked on mine, she runs her fingertips gently through my hair, the compassion I’ve come to know so well
