her
fingers in and almost moaned. It was perfect. She removed her bathrobe and hung
it on the back of the door before stepping into the tub. She groaned as she
sank into the hot water. Leaning back against the edge, she finally let herself
relax and soak away the tension of the night.
She still couldn’t believe she’d been
attacked. If not for T.S.— “Don’t think about it.” She closed her eyes,
determined to push those dark thoughts from her mind. A single tear slid down
her cheek and she swiped it away. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
A slight sound made her eyes pop open. The
door handle was turning. He wouldn’t…would he?
He did.
T.S. appeared in the doorway with a glass
of wine in one hand. Missy curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them,
trying desperately to preserve her modesty. “What are you doing? Get out of
here?”
He ignored her protests and set the glass
on the edge of the tub. “I figured you could use something to help relax you.
You sip on that while I wash your back.”
“I don’t need anyone to wash my back.”
Missy was mortified and half turned-on. She didn’t know whether to laugh at him
or smack him. The man had some nerve inviting himself to stay at her apartment,
taking it over and then barging in while she was having a bath.
“Sure you do.” He lifted the glass and
brought it to her lips. “Have some. I found it in your refrigerator, so I know
you like it.”
She sighed and gave in to the inevitable.
Short of jumping out of the bath and pushing him out the door, he wasn’t
leaving. And she wasn’t about to give up the slight covering sitting in the tub
gave her.
She tugged the glass from his hand and took
a sip, needing something to fortify her against T.S. The man was magnetic and
tugged on all her suppressed longings. He made her want to jump his very sexy
bones. He also wasn’t right for her. They were too different.
He was football and beer. She was the
symphony and champagne. He was blue-collar. She was white-collar. He was rough
and tough and had “bad boy” written all over him. He needed a danger label tattooed
on his forehead.
Her childhood and adolescent years had been
filled with blue-collared bad boys. Her father had been one in his youth and so
were her brothers. They drank too much, didn’t consider anything beyond
football to be cultural and often ended up in prison because of drunken brawls.
She didn’t want that in her life. Had worked hard to leave it behind her.
Not that T.S. drank to excess. On the
contrary, he seemed very controlled when it came to his consumption of alcohol.
But they were different in so many ways. It didn’t make sense to start
something that could only end badly.
Then there was the added problem of having
their best friends married to one another. Any relationship between her and
T.S. would be short-lived at best and then where would that leave them? They’d
still have to see one another when they socialized with Candy and Lucas. It was
inevitable. It would also be awkward and tense.
The glass made a clinking sound as he
plucked it from her fingers and set it back on the side of the tub. He picked
up a thick facecloth and dipped it into the water. He reached across her, his
forearm brushing hers as he grabbed the soap from the dish. She watched his
hands, calloused and strong, rub the soap on the cloth until he had a froth of
bubbles.
“Lean forward.”
She really shouldn’t. She should tell him
to leave. Deep down she knew he would if she truly protested. But did she
really want him to go? The answer was surprising. No, she didn’t. She didn’t
want to be alone.
She sat forward and buried her face against
her knees. The cloth moved up and down her back, not just washing her skin, but
massaging the muscles and working out the tension.
Gradually, she began to relax as the heat
from the water and T.S.’ hands began to work their magic.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Lean back.”
As if
fingers in and almost moaned. It was perfect. She removed her bathrobe and hung
it on the back of the door before stepping into the tub. She groaned as she
sank into the hot water. Leaning back against the edge, she finally let herself
relax and soak away the tension of the night.
She still couldn’t believe she’d been
attacked. If not for T.S.— “Don’t think about it.” She closed her eyes,
determined to push those dark thoughts from her mind. A single tear slid down
her cheek and she swiped it away. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
A slight sound made her eyes pop open. The
door handle was turning. He wouldn’t…would he?
He did.
T.S. appeared in the doorway with a glass
of wine in one hand. Missy curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them,
trying desperately to preserve her modesty. “What are you doing? Get out of
here?”
He ignored her protests and set the glass
on the edge of the tub. “I figured you could use something to help relax you.
You sip on that while I wash your back.”
“I don’t need anyone to wash my back.”
Missy was mortified and half turned-on. She didn’t know whether to laugh at him
or smack him. The man had some nerve inviting himself to stay at her apartment,
taking it over and then barging in while she was having a bath.
“Sure you do.” He lifted the glass and
brought it to her lips. “Have some. I found it in your refrigerator, so I know
you like it.”
She sighed and gave in to the inevitable.
Short of jumping out of the bath and pushing him out the door, he wasn’t
leaving. And she wasn’t about to give up the slight covering sitting in the tub
gave her.
She tugged the glass from his hand and took
a sip, needing something to fortify her against T.S. The man was magnetic and
tugged on all her suppressed longings. He made her want to jump his very sexy
bones. He also wasn’t right for her. They were too different.
He was football and beer. She was the
symphony and champagne. He was blue-collar. She was white-collar. He was rough
and tough and had “bad boy” written all over him. He needed a danger label tattooed
on his forehead.
Her childhood and adolescent years had been
filled with blue-collared bad boys. Her father had been one in his youth and so
were her brothers. They drank too much, didn’t consider anything beyond
football to be cultural and often ended up in prison because of drunken brawls.
She didn’t want that in her life. Had worked hard to leave it behind her.
Not that T.S. drank to excess. On the
contrary, he seemed very controlled when it came to his consumption of alcohol.
But they were different in so many ways. It didn’t make sense to start
something that could only end badly.
Then there was the added problem of having
their best friends married to one another. Any relationship between her and
T.S. would be short-lived at best and then where would that leave them? They’d
still have to see one another when they socialized with Candy and Lucas. It was
inevitable. It would also be awkward and tense.
The glass made a clinking sound as he
plucked it from her fingers and set it back on the side of the tub. He picked
up a thick facecloth and dipped it into the water. He reached across her, his
forearm brushing hers as he grabbed the soap from the dish. She watched his
hands, calloused and strong, rub the soap on the cloth until he had a froth of
bubbles.
“Lean forward.”
She really shouldn’t. She should tell him
to leave. Deep down she knew he would if she truly protested. But did she
really want him to go? The answer was surprising. No, she didn’t. She didn’t
want to be alone.
She sat forward and buried her face against
her knees. The cloth moved up and down her back, not just washing her skin, but
massaging the muscles and working out the tension.
Gradually, she began to relax as the heat
from the water and T.S.’ hands began to work their magic.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Lean back.”
As if
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