Don’t want to though.
I want to stay here, soaking up every inch of Holt’s body.
He has a scar on one shoulder. Not a surgical scar—it’s too uneven. Another on his neck.
I skim a finger over his shoulder scar.
He sucks in a breath but doesn’t move away.
“What did you do?”
“Don’t remember.”
The shower.
I need to turn the shower off.
But I’m obsessed with the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Ziggy?—”
“Thank you for saving me.” My fingers trail down from his scar to trace the edge of muscle in his upper arm.
Goosebumps break out all over his skin. “My pleasure.”
He hasn’t tried to touch me since he steadied me when I was worried about the spider.
But his fingers are twitching like he wants to.
“If this were yesterday,” I whisper, “I’d tell you I don’t have any expectations. I come with a lot of baggage. But not today. Today, I’m just here. Being me.”
“Tater Tot isn’t baggage.”
My heart swells.
I know this isn’t going anywhere.
I know we shouldn’t.
But I finally lift my head to study his face and find him watching me with the kind of intensity that makes my nipples tight and my vagina wet.
His pupils are dilated, lips parted, breath coming quickly.
His hair is even messier than it was when I got home tonight.
And I want to kiss him.
I want to go up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his thick neck, and kiss him until I can’t breathe.
Instead, I’m still drifting my fingers down his arm. “If I was someone else, would you kiss me?”
“No.”
A shudder rips through me.
No.
No.
I step back and almost fall into the tub, but Holt catches me.
