She's wearing my clothes. My flannel shirt, so big on her it's practically a dress, hanging off one shoulder and showing the curve of her neck. My sweatpants, rolled at the waist, sitting low on her hips. Her short blonde hair is damp and messy. Her face is makeup-free, fresh and impossibly beautiful.
And she's not wearing a bra. I can tell. Can see the outline of her nipples through the flannel, can see how her tits move when she walks, heavy and perfect and—
Stop. Jesus fucking Christ, stop.
"Adrenaline," I manage, forcing my eyes to her face and keeping them there. "Takes a while to come down from it."
"Yeah." She moves into the kitchen slowly, like she's not sure she's welcome. "Me too."
She is welcome. She's always welcome. That's the problem.
"Want some water?" I gesture to the glass in my hand.
"Sure. Thanks."
I pour her a glass and slide it across the counter to maintain the distance between us. If I get too close, if I smell her wearing my clothes, covered in my soap, I'm going to do something stupid.
Something I can't take back.
She drinks slowly, watching me over the rim of the glass. Those brown eyes are too perceptive. See too much. Always have.
"You okay?" she asks.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
A surprised laugh escapes me. "What makes you say that?"
"You've been clenching your jaw so hard I'm surprised your teeth haven't cracked." She sets down the glass. "And you're gripping that counter like it personally offended you."
I look down. She's right. My knuckles are white, fingers digging into the granite. I force myself to relax, to unclench my jaw, to breathe normally.
"Better?" I ask.
"Not really. Now you just look constipated."
Another laugh, this one more genuine. "Thanks for that."
"Just being honest." She hops up to sit on the counter, and my flannel rides up her thighs. I see the sweatpants underneath, see inches of soft skin above them, and my cock pulses with interest.
I take a long drink of water and pray for strength.
"So," she says, swinging her legs like a kid. "You gonna tell me what's really bothering you? Or do I have to guess?"
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Boone."
"Nicole."
She grins. "We can do this all night. I'm stubborn as hell and you know it."
I do know it. Seen it a hundred times. Watched her argue with Colt for hours over nothing, neither one willing to back down. It's one of the things I lov-
Nope. Not going there.
"Fine." I lean against the opposite counter, maintaining distance. "I keep thinking about what could've happened if you hadn't called. If you hadn't locked yourself in that bathroom. If I'd gotten there five minutes later."
