She drew away, untangling them. “You need to shave.”
Time for a lighter tone. “That would be wonderful. Got a razor?”
“Oh. Um. Sure. Hang on.”
She escaped to the bathroom where she popped a new razor cartridge into her shaver and grabbed the other supplies he would need. Her hands were shaking, she was surprised to notice. His tale of woe had affected her more than she’d thought.
Damn it, she didn’t want to see him hurt. Every hour that she spent with him, she fell a little bit more in…
Lust. That was all it was. Pure lust. “Just bang him and get it over with,” she muttered to herself. Hell, why not? They both knew where this was headed.
She was still giving herself a pep talk when she returned to the room. She set down the towels, the bowl of hot water she’d drawn from the bathroom sink and the shaving supplies. “I brought you a mirror. Do you want me to hold it?”
He ran his hand over his jaw. “Actually, do you mind doing the shaving? I’m afraid to allow myself near my own throat with a razor. My hand’s still shaky.”
“You trust me with a blade to your throat?”
“I think I’ve established that I trust you with my life in every way,” he said simply. She felt equally humbled and envious. How nice to be that certain of anything.
She cleared her throat. “Sure. You’re going to smell a bit like pomegranates. Hope that’s okay.” She held up the pink can of shaving foam she used.
He eyed the can warily. “Since I didn’t know pomegranates even had a scent, I guess that will have to do. I don’t mind if you don’t.”
Like she cared what his jaw smelled like. Unwilling to damage his trust, she took her time shaving him, leaving not a single nick on his rough skin. When she patted away the remaining foam, he smiled, revealing a heretofore unnoticed dimple in his cheek, and she caught her breath. She’d been wholly unsuccessful in resisting the charm of her scruffy, manly houseguest. But with his beard gone, Alex was simply beautiful, his features picture perfect. Had he showed up on her door looking like this, she probably would have dropped her panties on the spot.
Yeah, ’cause you’re playing so hard to get.
“How do I look?”
“Great.” Her throat was hoarse, so she tried again. “Really good.”
“Thanks. I feel so much better. You know what else would help?”
Alex tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear in a blatantly possessive move. She’d gotten so used to his touch over the past couple of days, it no longer shocked her, though a thrill coursed through her limbs when he drew one finger down her cheek. The calluses rasped against her skin, and he captured her chin in his fingers. He held her trapped there, looking into her eyes.
And just that easily, the world was reduced to the two of them. While they were bantering and chatting, she’d try to convince herself that their physical chemistry was all a part of her imagination, but a touch, a look, and she was ready to melt again. “What would help?”
Alex tugged her closer, his breath fanning over her lips. Her nipples tightened, a response she was well accustomed to by now. “A bath. I would love a bath.”
She cleared her throat and escaped his grasp. “That’s tough.” Her voice was rough, and she cleared her throat again. “I don’t have a bathtub.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman without a bathtub.”
“I have a perfectly fine shower,” she said defensively.
“Yeah, but”—Alex shook his head, a bemused expression on his face—“wouldn’t you love to lounge in a bath of hot water every now and again? Most women I’ve known would rather die than be separated from their bath salts.”
Oh, yeah, to linger in a bath of steaming hot water filled with sweet-smelling salts while Alex massaged foaming shampoo through the strands of her hair. Genevieve caught the whimper of longing before it rose from her throat. No, she was no different from most women. But her mother had been a no-nonsense woman who never encouraged the slightest bit of hedonistic behavior, and since her death Genevieve hadn’t seen the point in installing a bathtub just for herself.
But oh, how she wished she had, for the pleasure of imagining Alex in it. To feel like a normal woman with a normal life.
She shook her head to disguise her longing. “That’s pretty silly,” she said briskly, gathering the shaving supplies up. “There are far more important things to die for than bath salts.”
Alex’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe you can tell me some of those things.” He held up a hand. “In the meantime, shower?”
“One more day…”
“Genevieve, please. I’m feeling pretty grungy. I want to get clean. And I know I can make it. I can’t lie here forever.”
