Page 29 of Entwined With You

“Hey.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I nod, then look up at him from where I’m now kneeling in front of him. I start to rise, then slam myself back down when I realize that my goal is a kiss.

Hurriedly, I scoot backward, then slam my spine against the coffee table. I stumble to my feet, wipe my sweaty palms on my clothes, and scurry sideways so that I’m not trapped between him and the table. “I—I’m just really, really tired.”

“I hear you.”

I bend over and grab my wine off the coffee table. Thankfully, I didn’t slam the table so hard that it spilled, and I still have half a glass left.

I down it in one gulp.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, rising from the couch. “I changed the sheets this morning. Just let me grab a blanket from the closet in there.”

“I don’t want to kick you out of your bedroom.”

He’s right beside me as I say that. He pauses, and I can see the direction his mind has gone. Why not? Mine’s gone there, too. The man may well have killed me, and yet even the suggestion of him in my bed makes my insides go fluttery.

“It’ll just take a second.”

He heads into the room, returning moments later with a blanket. “Brax, I—” I cut myself off, unsure. I want to tell him the truth. For that matter, I want to tell him to come with me to the bed. But that’s just lust talking, and I’m smarter than that. “Just—just, thank you.”

“Careful,” he says. “Your skills aren’t as sharp as your sister’s.”

“What do you mean?”

He turns one hand over, revealing his palm. “If I didn’t kill her, I brought you here to keep you safe.” He shows me the other palm. “If I did kill her, I brought you here to keep you close.”

I frown, not sure where he’s going with this, but not much liking the trajectory.

“So which are you thanking me for?”

I say nothing. I know the answer I want, but I don’t know if it’s right.

So I don’t answer at all. Instead, I say, “I can see why she loved you.”

For a moment, we just look at each other. Then I take the initiative, cross the living area, brush past him, and enter the bedroom.

I turn. And then, with one last look at him, I shut the door.

In a movie, it would have been a dramatic exit. In my real life, it’s anticlimactic, because I still need the bathroom. Thankfully, he’s left a robe on the bed, which means I don’t have to paw through my bags he’d dropped in here earlier.

Instead, I go ahead and strip down so that I don’t have to carry my clothes back after my shower. Then, wrapped up in a robe that smells like him, I leave the bedroom and hurry into the hall. I don’t see him, and assume he’s in the kitchen or has stepped out onto the balcony.

I take a quick shower and wash my hair, using one of his towels to pile it onto my head. I’d brought my toiletry kit with me, and after debating, I leave it hanging behind the bathroom door. Then I slide back into his robe and open the door, releasing the steam that has built up in the tiny room.

I step out and pause, my eyes closed as I enjoy the cool air against my overheated skin. When I open my eyes, I see Brax. He’s on the sofa now, only a few yards away from me. He’s changed into jogging shorts, and he’s reading a book.

Except he’s not reading. Not now, anyway. Instead, he’s looking at me. I flash him a little smile. “I needed that shower. Great water pressure.”

Seriously? That’s my idea of conversation?

“Best thing about this dinky little apartment.”

I glance around, then shrug. “Yeah. I see that.”

We share a smile, and I’m hyper-aware of my body under the robe. Of the fact that I’m standing there, essentially naked, only a few feet from him.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking about watching a movie. But we probably shouldn’t,” he adds before I have a chance to jump all over that suggestion. “We have a long day tomorrow, and we’re starting early.”