Page 40 of Claim the Light
My hand has remained, palm flat, against his stomach, and now I ask him, my voice a husky whisper, “May I touch you?”
He draws back a little and the flare of desire in his expression belies his words. “Not tonight. One step at a time. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course it’s okay.” I take a deep breath, quelling the rising feeling of selfishness that comes with taking and not giving. “It’s just that your body is telling me… you need me.”
Damn, he’s hard beneath me.
“I can take care of me,” he murmurs. “But first, let me take care of you.”
I’m not sure what else he means to take care of, but he lifts me from the chair and places me firmly on the ground before he reaches for the nearest towel where I left them.
He wraps me up in it before he takes a towel for himself and slings it around his hips. It doesn’t really hide anything, but he seems determined to ignore his body for now.
After reaching for another towel, he slowly runs it through my dripping hair before he sets about rubbing me dry. Well, as dry as I can get with my underwear still on.
I step into his arms, reaching up to kiss his lips before I tell him, “I’ll give you space.” My forehead creases as some of my worry for him returns. “But if you don’t feel well, or you need help, promise me you’ll call out.”
His expression also sobers. “I promise.”
“Okay, then.” I tug out of his arms but pause at the adjoining door between the bathroom and the dressing room.
With my back to him, I slip out of my underpants and unclasp my bra, pitching both to the side of the dressing room before I throw him a smile over my shoulder.
He meets my gaze with a heated grin.
Then I tug the towel back around myself and close the door.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
When I finally emerge from the dressing room, wrapped in a warm bathrobe, I find fresh clothing sitting in neat piles on the end of one of the beds.
Plates covered in silver domes rest on the far table and the scent of cooked vegetables drifts over to me, calling to me more strongly than the need for clothing.
I expected to find Beatrix and Isaac waiting, and my cheeks are flushed about what they might have heard through the closed door, but they’re nowhere to be seen.
The door to the bathroom Beatrix went into is open and that room is also empty. I take note thatthreecovered plates sit on the table, not two, which makes it look like she hasn’t eaten yet.
Trusting that she’s okay, I head to the food first.
Micah emerges soon after and rifles through the pile of clothing, quickly choosing a shirt and jeans that fit him. Well, mostly. The shirt is a little tight, but he doesn’t seem to mind and I certainly don’t.
A mouthful of stew hovers at my lips, nearly forgotten as I watch him dress.
The nearest bed suddenly looks very inviting.
“I wonder if this room has a lock,” I say.
He turns at my question, his gaze heating me to my core. “I’m not sure I give a fuck if it doesn’t.”
My cheeks warm and my toes are already curling.
I lower my fork and rise to my feet, but before I can take another step toward him, the far door opens.
Isaac and Beatrix are having an animated discussion, their voices reaching me before they appear at the end of the short hallway. I quickly tug my bathrobe back into place and return to my seat while Micah focuses intently on the pile of clothing.
Beatrix pauses at the end of the hall. If she senses the tension in the air, she doesn’t say anything about it. Her hair is windswept, her lips are turned up in a sparkling smile, and her eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. She’s dressed in long, white pants and an ivory tunic, a combination that accentuates her height.
My jaw drops at the lightness in her expression, the complete absence of dark cynicism I’m used to experiencing from her.
