For the Love of Sin(28)

“You want to talk about any of this?” Troy asked.

“Not really.” She put another bite in her mouth.

“How long have you known you had diabetes?”

Reluctant to answer because she knew it would reveal too much, she hesitated, then shrugged. “Since right before I left Chattanooga.”

She braced herself for a barrage of questions and accusations, but Troy just studied her silently and nodded. He extended his hand to her forehead as if he intended to stroke back her hair, but apparently thought better of it. “Finish your meal. I’ll go run your bath water.”

She stared after him. “How did you know I wanted a bath?”

“My sister, Carly, taught me a few things, and one of them is a woman’s belief in the power of a bath,” he said over his shoulder as he kept walking toward the bathroom. Senada finished the rest of her food and tried to block out all her feelings about her father. The pain and joy she’d experienced upon seeing him. The secret hope that finally everything could be right between them. The terrible disappointment that came from seeing that they still operated under the same old communication guidelines. Wild assumptions and no trust.

Just the sound of the running water was soothing to her, an invitation to wash away all her hurt and confusion. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the bathroom.

Troy leaned against the doorway and gave a half grin. “Need some help?” he asked lightly.

Despite the fact that she was tired and emotionally used up, the offer made her stomach dip. No clever comments came to mind, so Senada did something unusual. She was completely honest. She stepped closer to him and looked into his face. “You’re a very kind man, Troy. I don’t understand why you put up with me.” She pressed her mouth to his and gently rubbed back and forth, wanting to absorb something from him, wanting to give at the same time.

Her breath grew short, and she pulled back. “I don’t know why you put up with me,” she whispered. “But I’m really glad you did tonight.” She licked her lips, and the taste of him teased her senses. “Thanks.”

When she closed the door behind her, Troy licked his own lips and groaned. Loosening a few more buttons on his shirt, he walked to the living room and tried not to picture Sin, wet and nude, in that bathtub. He flicked on the TV and channel surfed until he found a ballgame. After forty minutes passed with no sign of Sin, however, he started to wonder.

He went to the hallway and stared at the closed door for a long moment. “Hey, Sin, you okay in there?”

He heard a little splash. “Yeah,” she called back. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Good idea,” he said with a chuckle. “Except your bed might be a better place for it.”

She made an unintelligible grumbly noise.

“You need a robe or anything?”

“No. It’s on the door.”

He heard some more splashing followed by curses. Biting his tongue to keep from checking on her again, he leaned against the wall and waited. More splashing and more curses. She let out a groan of frustration.

“Troy,” she finally called.

“Yes.” He moved to stand directly outside the door.

“I’m having a little problem.”

“Yes?”

“Standing.” She hesitated. “My legs have turned to spaghetti.”

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. His brothers would find this situation enormously funny. He wished he did. “You want me to help you get out?”

She waited a long moment. “Yes, please,” she said in a low voice.

“Okay,” he muttered, and braced himself. Somebody somewhere was going to pay big for this. He pushed open the door, expecting to find her trying to cover herself with her arms or a washcloth or the shower curtain.

No such luck. Her skin was rich, creamy and tan, and he could see all of it. From her flushed cheeks, past her vulnerable throat and delicate shoulders, to her full breasts, inviting hips and shapely thighs all the way to her painted toenails, the sight of her, naked and accessible, could have brought him to his knees. Her eyes were smoky and heavy-lidded as if she were aroused, but Troy knew she was just completely and totally exhausted.

Of its own volition, his gaze dipped to her wet breasts and dusky rose erect nipples. A dozen unfulfilled fantasies scorched his mind. He mentally swore and ignored the beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll get you a towel.” He snatched the pink terry bath sheet from the rack and draped it over his shoulder. He thought about throwing it over her now, but he’d just end up drenching it. “I’ll, uh, put my hands under your arms.”