Nimble fingers work the buttons free, and his touch is warm, fingertips rough with calluses and hard work. I peer at him from the corner of my eyes, head tilted toward him as I hold my bodice to my chest. It does nothing to assuage the way everything inside of me tightens at the small touches.
How can something so little feel sobig?
Saint clenches his jaw as more of my back is exposed. Heat tunnels through me with every brush of skin. Tension drenches the room. He has to feel that, too. Right?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, making him pause.
I should not entertain this asinine reaction. The last time I allowed myself to feel attractive, to be attracted to someone, well, it led me here—a runaway bride hiding in a motorcycle club.
His fingers move again, letting out a harsh breath as he has to undo every button. I’m too big-hipped to leave it at the waist. He works down the last of the buttons smoothly. Once they’re undone, Saint turns and disappears in record time.
I try not to be disappointed by it.
Closing myself in the ensuite, I hang my dress on the hook beside the door and mourn its beauty before I take a shower.
The heat of the water feels good, and once I’m clean, I lean into the cold tile and let it beat into my back. It’s probably not so goodfor my feet, but I’m sore all over. Fight or flight mode has taken its toll.
Once I can force myself to move again, I wash my undies and small lace bralette, hanging them over the shower door to dry. It leaves me feeling indecent as I dress in the oversized shirt and nothing else. The shorts he left me are far too big to stay around my hips—which is a surprise. I am bottom heavy after all.
The shirt smells like Saint—oil, musk, and something spicy. I like it far more than I should admit.
I can’t believe my life has turned so upside down in a matter of hours.
When I hobble out to the room, I stop short at the sight of Doc—tall, dark featured, and handsome—too handsome, like one of those rich doctors on TV. The way his gaze travels down my bare legs makes me glad I can blame the pink in my cheeks on the hot shower.
He meets my gaze and nods to the bed. “I brought stuff that might fit you better. Some food, too, if you’re hungry.”
“I am. Thank you.”
He’s at my elbow as I wobble to the bed, helping me sit. His hand is as gentle as it was when he cleaned up my feet. Doc’s excellent bedside manner doesn’t distract from how much he sees when he looks at me.
If anyone is going to uncover the secrets I don’t want to share, it’ll be him. I’ll have to be careful around this man.
He pulls the tray closer for me to gobble down the stew and chunk of bread. It’s surprisingly tasty and warm enough to go down easy. Do they have a cook? Would it be one of the men ordo they keep women here for this kind of work? Is it what I’ll be doing once I’m married to Saint?
But when the stew is gone, I find myself yawning, all my questions about these new circumstances fading.
Doc takes the tray away and pulls back the blanket of the bed, shooing me under it. “Why don’t you take a nap, and we can talk when you’re awake.”
“What do we need to talk about?” I mumble, complying.
“Why you’re here instead of getting married. What’s got you so scared to go back. Where your family is and why they’re not helping you…” He pushes my wet hair back with a gentle caress.
It shoves a sharp breath into my lungs that I’m not prepared for.
“What the rules are while you’re here.” Another soft touch grazes my cheek before he retreats. “Get some rest.”
“Wait. Where’s my violin?”
Doc smiles, and it’s alarming in its beauty. “It’s safe.”
He points to the case sitting on the other side of the room. It’s all I need to let go and fall off to sleep.
My dreams are full of running, my feet bleeding with every step. And someone is chasing me, although I can’t see who it is, I know it’s Grant. He won’t stop until he has me back. Until he can prove he’s strong enough to keep me in line.
Until I complete his perfect picture of domesticity for his run for congress. I’ve blown that apart, and he’ll do anything to save face.
Even if it ends in my death.
