I hit the window frame and it shuddered free of the stuck paint. Maybe I could jimmy it open and escape in a towel.
A few minutes later, I’d gotten the window open enough to get my front half through. Rain slicked down the front lawn ahead of me. If I wedged my feet on the tub’s edge, I could get enough height to push myself through.
I was about to retreat and wrap myself in a towel so I could attempt a jailbreak when the window fell onto my shoulders, pinning me. I yelped. In my struggle, my feet slipped off their tenuous perch on the side of the tub.
Panicking, I barely heard the bathroom door open.
“You okay in there?”
“Fine!” I answered before I realized he’d be able to tell my head was sticking out of the house. For a second I thought he bought it, when a rustle and a waft of air on my bare back told me Cole had drawn the shower curtain back.
“Regina…”
“I was just seeing how hard it was raining,” I said. My feet had found purchase on the side of the tub again, but one move and they might slip. “You know, you really should replace these windows. I’m stuck.”
Cole said nothing.
I was acutely aware of my bare naked buns pointing at him. The water of the shower was turning cold, not to mention the rain on my face. He needed to replace his gutters, too.
“A little help here?” I demanded.
Cole turned off the water. He laid a hand on my back and slid it down the curve of my ass. Probably inspecting his handiwork from before. The sting had subsided to a dull throbbing ache that I barely noticed until his fingers squeezed lightly. Despite myself I shivered, hard, and not because it was cold. After all the liberties he’d taken that night, blistering my bottom, this soft touch made everything inside me quiver to attention.
“You know,” he said. “This isn’t a bad position. Maybe I should leave you here all night.”
I opened my mouth to yell at him and thought better of it. “Please don’t.”
Already the warmth from the shower was dissipating, and I’d started to shiver with real cold.
The hand left my backside to push the window up. I bit my lip as his body pressed against me.
“Careful.” His heat hit my back as he helped me down. He set me on my feet and checked me over, while I looked anywhere but his face. He’d changed into jeans and a faded white t-shirt. His feet were bare. That seemed strangely intimate.
Naked, wet and cold, I stared at the washed out logo on his t-shirt. I didn’t have it in me to be a smart aleck.
“Turn around.”
Using a washcloth, he rubbed marks from the window off my back. I didn’t speak as he took my hand, toweled me off like I was seven years old. To be honest, I’d been acting like it.
“Time to dress you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? This was very un-sheriffy.
I hesitated.
“Put your hands up,” he ordered. That was more like it.
I did and he dropped the t-shirt over my head, whipping the towel away at the same time. The soft fabric went to my knees. I forgot how big he was. Big and broad and suddenly the bathroom was too small for the two of us.
“Cole. What are you doing?”
“I’m taking care of you.” He bound up my wet hair, then gave the pony tail a tug. “Come on.”
4
Aminute later, I sat in his little kitchen drinking a glass of water and studying the wallpaper.
“Cole.”
