“Sorry,” she said again.
He gave her a rueful smile. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this is.”
“Really? ’Cause I kind of feel like I attract trouble.”
He gave her that intense, knowing look. “Are you calling me trouble?”
She smiled. “Well you look dangerous, but I guess looks can be deceiving, considering I’m the one who keeps causing the problems.”
He edged close, his hips pressing against hers, his hands sneaking around her waist and sliding down to rest on her bottom. His proximity, combined with the hooded expression of desire in his eyes, made her shiver with lust. She couldn’t remember being so physically attracted to a man before.
He lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips trailing around to rest against her cheek. His eyes searched hers, deep and intense, and he leaned in and spoke in her ear, “You have tomato seeds stuck to the end of your nose.”
“Oh!” She laughed and lifted her hand to pick the offending seeds off. “So I do.” She suddenly became acutely aware of the gunk from the tomatoes rotting and festering on her skin, and her aversion to bacteria set in.
“Actually, do you think I could take a shower? I feel gross.”
Ryker grinned. “Sure. I could do with getting cleaned up myself. I’ll take the main bathroom, if you want to use the en suite. Your bags are all in my bedroom, and there’s a lock on the door.”
“Do I need it to keep you out?” she said, only half-joking.
“It would take more than a lock.” He grinned back.
Hugging herself with happiness, she turned from him and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He’d explained to her earlier how the bedroom had been his father’s when he’d been alive, but since Ryker was now the man of the house, he’d moved into it, and Mikey had taken Ryker’s old room.
She pushed open the door to find her bags positioned on the chaise lounge at the foot of the bed. There were fresh towels in the bathroom. She hesitated, wondering if she should use her own towels, as was her habit. She normally couldn’t stand the idea of having something that might have touched someone else’s body on her own skin. But the idea of the towels touching Ryker’s body was different. If anything, she hoped he had already dried himself with the towels. The image of him standing naked on the exact same spot she stood now flashed through her head. How much of his body did he have tattooed? Did he have anything else pierced? Was his body as rock hard as she’d felt when he’d held her against him? Her mind conjured up all the glorious images of a naked Ryker, and without thinking about what she was doing, she reached out and took the towel from the rack and pressed it to her face. The material was soft, fluffy, and warm, and she inhaled, drinking in what scent of him remained.
You could have the real thing, a little voice piped in her head. He wants you, even if it is only for a mercy fuck.
No, her more sensible voice answered. He does seem to really like you. But you can’t have him. He might not mind the extra pounds, but when he sees how hideously deformed your body is now, he’ll run a mile.
Jenna put the towel back on the rack and pressed her lips together. How could she be so ecstatic one minute, and confused and frightened the next?
She gave a sigh and began to peel her crusty clothes from her body. Her t-shirt was stiff from tomato juice, her jeans sticking to her legs so she had to pull and tug to drag them from her thick thighs. Finally, just in her bra and panties, she turned on the shower. The water quickly ran hot and she removed her underwear, dropping the items to the floor.
Stepping beneath the water, she used Ryker’s shampoo and body wash. The scents of cedar and citrus filled the steamy space. Jenna didn’t mind that only male products were available. To her, it felt like another way to immerse herself in Ryker.
Clean and refreshed, she stepped out and toweled herself off. Instead of doing her usual body inspection in the mirror, she ignored her reflection and left the bathroom to retrieve a clean set of clothing from her bag. She unzipped the hold all and reached in …
And froze.
Everything had been moved around.
The way she packed her bag was done with military precision. Her shoes always went on the bottom, covered in her toiletries bag so she never needed to worry about dirt from the soles of her shoes touching her clothes. Her underwear was always positioned next, kept in two zip-lock bags—one bag for clean, another for anything that needed to be laundered. Her leggings and jeans were normally neatly folded on top, with her t-shirts and sweaters folded on top of those.
Right now, staring down into her bag, nothing was in the right order. Hell, it was barely folded. Her jeans were mixed up with her sweaters, her sneakers pointing upward and touching her clean underwear zip-lock bag.