“You don’t have a problem with men,” he went on, “just… me.”
My breath hitched, and my hands went still.
He’d been paying attention, even when I thought I was invisible.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” I stroked my fingers softly upwards from his neck to his cheeks, and his reaction to my pampering made me wonder if he craved emotional closeness, too. Maybe he was more sensitive than I thought. “I’m just keeping my distance from single, straight men for now.”
“Why?”
I sighed quietly so he wouldn’t hear me. “I’m doing a factory reset, and I don’t want to give anyone the impression I’m interested.”
“Well, it’s working,” he said with a tinge of humour in his voice. “I’ve never been under the impression you’re interested—and what do you mean byfor now? You’ve been alone the whole time you’ve lived here.”
I selected another serum and unscrewed the dropper, dotting it over his forehead and cheeks. “It's a common side effect of peace,” I said, patting the serum into his skin. “Once you’ve experienced a calm life, you don’t want to open yourself up to chaos again.”
“Understandable. But if you’re nice to me, I won’t turn into Kerger and start hanging around you like a creep. We can be friends.”
“I hope so.” The more time I spent around him, the more it seemed like a possibility, which was a blessing in a world where everyone was either sick, in hiding, or gone.
I grabbed a tub of moisturiser and applied healthy globs to his face, knowing it would take a while to work it into his skin. He liked the attention, and it surprised me how much I enjoyed his company.
With a smile, I slipped my hands beneath his jaw and dragged firm pressure back upwards, feeling his stubble rasp beneath my fingertips. He let out a soft groan that stirred butterflies in my stomach, so I repeated the motion.
While he lay there all loose and relaxed, I turned his head to the left and examined the intricate rose tattoo on the side of his neck, rubbing my thumb over a thorn so realistic it should have pricked my skin. “I like your tattoos,” I said.
His eyes remained closed, and he lifted his chin like a cat, inviting more of my deep massaging technique. “You do?”
“The ones I can see.” I obliged his silent demand, running my hands from the base of his neck to his temples. He sighed through his nose as if all the remaining traces of tension were leaving his body. “Why are you surprised?” I asked.
“I thought my ink was a big part of the reason you were staying away from me.”
“What? No.”
“My mistake,” he said with a hint of a smile. “To be fair, you’re not exactly an open book.”
“We’re fixing that now.”
“Are we? I’m still no closer to understanding you.” A long stretch of silence passed before he spoke again. “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said, his voice a tempting invitation. “I’ll keep my eyes closed so you don’t lose your nerve. I won’t even speak.”
For a man who could act like such a goof, his insight unsettled me. “I have no clue what you know about me.”
He raised his brows, his eyes still closed. “Why don't you start spilling, and we’ll find out?”
I huffed in amusement and rubbed slow circles on his forehead. “All right, I’ll play along.”
Theo didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth quirked.
Right.
The no-speaking part had come into effect.
Since his skin had absorbed all the cream, I slipped off the headband.
Before today, I never could have imagined trying to draw out my time with him. Now, I wanted to come up with different ways to extend the pamper session.
As soon as my hands sank into his hair, his stomach pulled in with a breath, and his toffee-coloured strands moved between my fingers like silk.
“My parents died when I was twenty-two,” I said, massaging his scalp. “It was an accident, just a random, terrible thing on a Saturday.”
