Tired and worn raw by everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she ached to be held by him. To know the strength of his arms around her, secure and cared for by a man she trusted and adored. Holding her close while kissing her lips in a slow, soft exploration. Stroking his broad hands over her body. Parting her thighs and settling his hips against hers.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she heard the shower shut off. She rushed to the top dresser drawer to retrieve a cami to sleep in, wanting to avoid any awkward moments half undressed. Except she couldn’t figure out a way to undo the long row of buttons down her back without help. “Dang it.”
Isaac whipped open the door and a swirl of steam followed him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
The sight of Isaac wearing only a towel around his hips made the marrow in her bones turn to mush. At the same time, a heaviness filled her abdomen and a lightness filled her head. Openly staring, she absorbed the glorious sight of him. The sharp angles of his freshly shaven jaw. The damp black hair curling over his forehead. The stark hills and valleys of muscle in his torso. The rapid rise and fall of his hair-dusted chest. The breadth of his shoulders rounded with perfect symmetry. The powerful strength of his arms, tensed and ready to avenge whatever had done her wrong.
Pushing words past her dry throat, she managed to say, “Nothing urgent, though I could use your help. I can’t unbutton my dress.”
The tightness in his shoulders eased. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right out.”
Two minutes later he exited the bathroom smelling like lotion that matched his cologne, wearing a pair of boxer-briefs that left little to her imagination and a worn t-shirt that looked soft and inviting. If she couldn’t snuggle with him, maybe he’d let her borrow just his shirt. Longing washed through her again, and her fingers curled into fists to keep from reaching for him.
When he approached her, she turned, swept her hair to the side, and pointed to her back. “I can’t reach the buttons.”
His low laugh caressed her neck where she’d pulled her hair away. “I can see how that would be a problem.”
Apparently, she hadn’t done a thorough job of removing some strands because his strong fingers touched the nape of her neck, sliding into her hair, combing it over her right shoulder. She locked her knees to keep from swooning backward against his chest.
The whisper of his touch on her skin as he unfastened the row of buttons sent luscious shivers cascading over her. He smelled of soap and clean male essence. Her toes curled in her high heels. She kicked off her shoes to plant her feet more firmly on the carpet. She might embarrass herself by turning and melting into his arms uninvited.
At the base of her spine, the gentle pressure of his hands fell away. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
“Any time.” Instead of taking her in his arms like she dearly wanted him to, he stepped back and moved to the other side of the bed. “Hey, any chance you have a nail file I can use?”
Perplexed, she glanced over her shoulder. He stood with his back to her offering a measure of privacy. It seemed like an odd time to attend to nail hygiene. And what guy ever used a nail file? She shrugged. “Look in my makeup case on the glass shelf.”
He disappeared into the bathroom.
Seizing the moment, she discarded the gray dress he’d bought for her and pulled on her flesh-colored camisole, since she had nothing else to wear to bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw her nipples clearly through the thin fabric.
The second she heard the bathroom door squeak, she lunged under the sheets, pulling them up to her armpits. She hadn’t dated all that much, and she’d never felt terribly secure in her own skin. If they ever found themselves in bed together, she’d rather he explored her body in the dark under the covers, before he saw her parading around in her underwear and decided he wasn’t interested in what was underneath. “Fingernail emergency?” she asked.
A sound of amusement came from his throat. “No, but this will work in a pinch. It’s for the door.”
“Did it give you a splinter?”
He chuckled. “It’s an old trick I learned when I bought my first car lot. More like a junkyard, to be honest. It wasn’t in the best part of town. Sat vacant for half a year before I got to it, and chop shop pickers had helped themselves to an all-you-can-steal buffet of car parts. I slept in the office onsite for the first three months to catch them in the act. One night they decided to try and steal my cash drawer. I think I sent two of them to the hospital. Served them right. So because I couldn’t afford a real alarm system, I bought bells for the front door and improvised my own alert system inside where I slept.”