“Is this really happening?” I touch my forehead. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
His face falls. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause you more problems. I want to help.”
I tip my head back. “I don’t need…” My voice trails off. It’s obviously a lie. I was…ama disaster. I meet his eyes. “I know I look bad. I’m not sure what happened. I wasn’t feeling well. But really, I’m fine.”
He holds my gaze and his smoky-quartz eyes soften. His mouth curves into a half-smile. “You don’t look bad. You look like someone who’s been through hell. But you’re still beautiful.”
Oh, he’s a charmer all right. I remember that from Vegas. How he pulled me out of my strict schedule and rules into his web of charisma and fun. “What time is it?”
His head tilts at the off-topic question. “Nearly ten.”
“Wow. I must have slept for a while.”
“A couple of hours, a bit more.”
“I can’t believe you stayed.”
“You know why I stayed, Nikki.” He doesn’t look away.
I swallow. I’m starting to have that feeling of danger again. I press a hand to my chest, over my heart. “I feel like I need a shower.”
“Then you should have one. I snooped around and found your bathroom.” He draws the blanket off me and reaches to help me up. I want to protest but the truth is, I’m exhausted, even after a couple of hours’ sleep.
He follows me to the bathroom door. “Do you… need help?”
I turn and give him a look.
He holds up his hands. “For real. I don’t want you to pass out and fall in the shower.”
Neither do I. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“Well.” He hesitates. “Call if you need anything. And be careful.” He gives me a stern, and frankly sexy, look, then kisses my forehead.
Damn him. Where does he get off being so sweet and protective? And a forehead kiss? That is not playing fair!
I shut the bathroom door behind me. I go to lock it but stop myself. After what happened earlier, I should leave it unlocked in case I go cuckoo again.
The shower feels soooo good. I turn my face up and let super-hot water pelt me everywhere. Washing and conditioning my hair is an effort, but I do it, then soap up with my favorite scented body wash from a little place in Venice Beach.
I don’t want to put my clothes back on. I was gross and sweaty. So I wrap a big towel around me and step out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
Marek appears in my bedroom door.
His gaze drops to the towel, lower to my bare legs and feet, then back up.
“I’ll just get some clean clothes on,” I say quickly, my voice squeaky.
“Put on your pajamas. It’s bedtime.”
“I just woke up!”
“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not dead on your feet, Nikki.”
I blink at him as a little spike pierces my heart.
He closes his eyes. “Bad choice of words. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
Feeling the pressure behind my eyes of more tears, I reply, “No, it’s fine.”
