Page 35 of Unmarked Magic

I couldn’t help it. He was beautiful.

Why cover this up?

I didn’t speak as I ran the facecloth over his pecs and down the ridges of his muscular stomach. It made me wonder what the dips and troughs would feel like without the fabric between my skin and his. The thought made anger burn inside me once more at his sudden departure earlier. I tightened my jaw, wishing I could ask him about it, but now was not the time. When I lifted the facecloth to his cheek, swiping over his cut, he flinched. His eyes opened to find mine, capturing my gaze with his. An espresso shot laced with something I couldn’t decipher. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

Could he feel this, too?

Breaking our connection, I squeezed the excess water from the facecloth, draping it over the tap. “Let me help you up,” I offered, extending him my hand.

He followed the motion, but didn’t speak, wrapping his fingers around mine. When he made to stand, he winced, and I felt his pain as if it were my own. I hated seeing him this way. Water slid off him in a slow glide, but I didn’t dare look down, knowing how the wet material of his boxers would cling to him. I did not need to see that.

He sat on the side of the bath, gripping the sink.

Reaching for a towel off the rail, I handed it to him. “Are you okay here for a minute?” I asked.

A quick nod, and his hollow gaze dropped to the towel in his hand. He ran it behind his neck and over his chest. “It’s bright in here,” he rasped.

I frowned. It wasn’t that bright. Walking to the door, I flicked off the light anyway, bathing the room in dappled moonlight. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Making my way down the hallway, I pushed the door to Reid’s bedroom open. The scent of a smooth malt with a hint of cedar hit me instantly. I closed my eyes, drinking it in. The same scent I’d inhaled when I’d buried my nose into his neck.

Gods, how could someone smell so good?

And why had I not noticed it until recently?

I drew the curtains before heading to an oak set of drawers set against the wall. On top sat the open pack of underwear I’d brought him. Typical. He hadn’t bothered to put them in a drawer.

Pulling out a pair, I made my way back to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. I stopped short at the sight in front of me. Because if I thought his chest was otherworldly, I was not prepared to see his back.

He stood facing away from me, holding on to the counter as he finished his glass of water. His muscular shoulders gave way to a narrow waist, every inch of his entire back covered in more tattoos.

Holy mother of…

A towel now wrapped around his bottom half, clinging to his behind in a way that made an ache form in my lower belly. Suddenly, he turned, and my eyes instinctively dropped to the front of his towel where it clung to… everything else.

Shit. Averting my gaze, I handed him his boxers, turning away to let him change. I focused on the back of the door, giving him privacy. “I think you may have a possible concussion,” I said, trying to veer the conversation where it needed to go. I didn’t know how to tell him what I needed to, but it was a start.

“I’m fine. Wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

He sounded like he’d ‘sobered up’ for lack of a better term, even when I knew he hadn’t been drinking. His previous slur had to be related to something else.

“I’m decent.”

Keeping my gaze focused up, I turned around and I silently thanked every god that existed for convincing me to buy the loose-fit boxers.

“You were slurring your words before,” I said cautiously, leaning a shoulder into the wall.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. He strode past me, but his arm suddenly gripped the door frame.

I rushed to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. “You’re not. Whatever this is, stop pretending you’re okay,” I argued.

A long breath left him. “I can’t…” He shook his head, leaning against the door frame. “Sorry, I just — fuck.”

Yeah, that summed up my thoughts, too. This evening was an entire clusterfuck. Whatever was going on here, I wasn’t sure. But I would find out. Because I didn’t like secrets. My entire youth had been a lie.

“Enough with the bravado. Lean on me,” I ordered, and he silently obliged, letting me help him down the hall and into his bedroom. I ignored the way my hand gripped his ribcage, digging into his bare skin. “You need to sleep.”