“Would you like to test me out?” My pulse skittered as he pulled me hard against him and nibbled on my neck. I gulped as the full, heavy imprint of his passion reignited memories of our afternoon in the tent.
“Rodel.” He cradled my cheek in his palm.
Rodelle. It made me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
“We were impulsive,” he said, his eyes pinning me down. “We got carried away in the moment. I should have been more careful. I should have—”
“Shhh. We were in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not like you carry spare condoms in your wallet. Besides, I finished my cycle a few days before we left for Wanza, so the chances that I’m pregnant are very slim.”
He let out a deep breath and rested his forehead on mine. “That’s a relief. And yet . . . for a small, selfish moment, when I considered the possibility, it made me unbelievably happy.”
I swallowed, thinking how much he’d loved Lily, and how I could totally see him being an amazing father. But I was leaving in a few days, in time for the beginning of the school year, and it was too painful to consider all of the possibilities that could have blossomed with Jack.
Steam rose around us as we soaped each other in silence, skin to slick skin—marveling, memorizing, cherishing. Jack’s eyelashes, thick with water; his bold thighs; the way his muscles rippled when he moved; the ends of his hair curled up with lather.
He slung a towel around his hips, wrapped me up in another, and carried me to the bed. The room was worn and sparse, the curtains frayed at the hem, but I sighed in tired contentment.
“A hot shower, soft sheets, a real mattress. Pure bliss.” I sat at the edge of the bed as Jack rubbed my hair dry.
“I can think of a couple of things I’d like to throw into the mix.” He grabbed a shopping bag that was sitting on the side table and put it in my lap.
“What’s this?” I rummaged through it and found an antibiotic cream for his cut, a comb, toothpaste, gum, lotion, and . . . a box of condoms.
“I meant this.” He knelt before me, pried the bag from my fingers, and waved the lotion at me. “Lie down,” he whispered in my ear. “On your stomach.”
My skin tingled as he unwrapped the towel from around me and started kneading my sore muscles in slow, steady circles—my feet, my calves, the backs of my knees.
“Mmm.” I snuggled deeper into the pillow. I was more exhausted than I’d thought. I hadn’t slept in ages, but I fought the urge to close my eyes. “Did the police pick up K.K.?”
“No. The van was gone by the time they got there. They think the two men who came after you on the train found him and let him out.”
An uneasy feeling unraveled in the pit of my stomach. The idea of K.K. running loose was unsettling. “How’s Bahati?” I asked. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s fine. Nothing broken.” Jack moved from my legs to my back. I was melting under his firm, sensuous strokes. “Some of the newspaper journalists got a whiff of the story and wanted an interview. He’s in the meeting room with them. Lights, cameras, the works.”
“That’s great.” I chuckled. “And Gabriel? Any leads on him?”
“I tracked down the builder who’s working on his home.” Jack warmed more lotion in his hands before rubbing it over my shoulders. “The construction has stopped because Gabriel hasn’t paid him for the next phase. I told him to contact me as soon as he hears from him. Gabriel has put a lot of money into this property. He’s not just going to abandon it.”
I lost my train of thought because Jack was stroking the sides of my neck, up and down. I was like a pendulum swinging between two states—from relaxation to arousal, and back again. As his fingers worked the knots under my skin, my eyes slid shut.
“Jack,” I mumbled, “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Then do it. Just let yourself drift off. You haven’t slept in ages.”
“But time . . . I want to make the most of it.” I flipped over and gazed at him.
Something clouded his expression before he blinked it away. “I don’t want to think about that. Not right now. Right now, I just want to enjoy this. This feeling. Your skin. Your hair on the pillow. Your sleepy brown eyes.”
I put my arms around his neck because I couldn’t stand the distance. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything.” His breath was warm against my face. I couldn’t help but taste his lips.
“Will you let me comb your hair?”
He laughed, but stopped when he caught my expression. “You’re serious?”
“Sit.” I patted the edge of the bed and scooted around to kneel behind him. I picked up the comb and ran it through his wet, shoulder length hair in soft, leisurely strokes. He sat stiff and upright, unaccustomed to being looked after. He might have let his barber have a go, but that was different, and I doubted he’d had his hair cut since Lily died.
