Page 59 of Seven Summers Ago
“That would be nice, thank you.”
I hop up and pull a washcloth from the cabinet and run it under the cold water for several long beats, watching her reflection in the mirror. She adjusts in the tub and I get a peek at her tits before forcing myself to swallow and look away.
I wring out the excess water and shuffle back over to the tub, where I fold the washcloth before setting it gently on her forehead. Her beautiful green eyes disappear as they flutter closed and she releases a moan. The intoxicating sound sends a zing straight through my core and my dick twitches. I’m in caretaker mode, but I can’t shut off my hormones. Being this close to Rosie, while only a layer of bubbles separates her naked body from my eyes…I’m about to come unglued.
Crouching near her, I drag the wet washcloth across her forehead and lift it to dab at her temples. I brush her wisps of loose curls off her face, and she lets out another little moan. I’m desperate to continue drawing out these adorable mewls. I must be down bad for her still, because I can’t stop.
“How’s that?” I whisper hoarsely.
She gives a little nod. “It’s good. But I need more.”
The hint of her begging has my dick hardening and straining against the front of my pants. I’m thankful this tub ledge is separating her view of me.
Her eyes fly open, and she stares into mine with abashment shining in hers. “Colder. I need it colder,” she rushes out in correction.
My lips pull up in the corner, amused. “Okay. I’m on it.” I run the cold water again and repeat the process, taking several deep breaths in and out so I don’t send myself into a panic attack.
When I return, her eyes are closed. I lay the washcloth across her forehead again, but this time, I abandon it and return to my place on the floor. Her eyes blink a few times before she studies me, and I force myself to look away.
“Thanks,” she finally whispers. “For staying,” she elaborates.
“No problem. I had nothing else going on.” I cross one leg over the other and make myself focus on the framed art of coral hanging on the wall above her head.
“So no hot date tonight?” she teases.
I shoot her a mock glare. “Nah. Funny how fast word gets around in a small town that I’m still married.”
“Oh, right.” She winces. “Sorry.”
I hunch a shoulder. “Whatever,” I mutter. “It’s fine.”
“I really am glad you’re here tonight.”
When I glance her way, she’s smiling and worrying at her lower lip, and we hold eye contact for a long time. Maybe both of us saying all the unsaid things in our minds that we’ll probably never get the courage to say out loud.
When Rosie is ready to get out of the tub, I leave her to get dressed and go downstairs to make her some chamomile tea. I unplug her heating pad from near the sofa and take it and the hot mug back upstairs. I push open the bedroom door with my foot. She’s already tucked in under the blankets on the bed.
A smile brightens her face. She already looks better.
“I found your heating pad and made you some tea.”
“Beck,” she says on an exhale. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t want to leave you without making sure you have everything you need first.” I set the cup on her nightstand.
“You’re leaving?”
I rub at the back of my neck. “Yeah. I should let you get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“It has. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you about what happened at the reading of Dottie’s will.”
“Right,” I mutter, like it hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind since she returned earlier. “Anything exciting?” I crouch in front of the nightstand and plug in her heating pad. When she doesn’t answer, I sit up on my knees and look at her.
She’s got a bottle of pain meds in her grip that she’s fiddling with.
“Rosie? What happened?” I snatch the bottle and open it for her before handing it back.
Our fingers graze slightly and she sighs. “Well, it turns out, Stella was right about a few things. Dottie did want me and Charlie to move back here. She left us her house. Charlie and me.”
