“Are we really safe here?”
Chase nodded. He wasn’t going to tell her that even the best preparations sometimes weren’t enough, but he was pretty confident they were today. Hawk didn’t do anything half-assed, and now he had the money—loads of money thanks to his pop-star wife—to have the best of everything, which included high-tech surveillance equipment and alarms.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Hawk knows what he’s doing.”
“Are you just telling me that to make me feel better?”
“Do you really want the answer to that question?”
She nodded, her hair shining in the overhead light, her expression wary and haunted. He wanted to go over and pull her into his arms, hug her tight. No way in hell would he give in to that urge though.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” he said. “Go take a shower and stop worrying.”
She looked at him for a long moment before she turned and melted into the darkness of the house.
Chase shoved a hand through his hair as his heart pumped faster than it should and his gut squeezed tight. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? Sophie wasn’t his type—too soft and pampered—and she damn sure wasn’t on the menu.
10
Sophie found the bathroom and turned on the shower to let the water heat. She slipped out of her clothes, intending to hang them to dry when she was finished. There was a fluffy blue robe draped on the door hook, the kind that wrapped you up in a soft hug when you slid it over your skin. She ran her fingers over the terry cloth and nearly shivered in delight.
The bathroom was small and the mirror only provided her with a view of her torso. She studied her nakedness critically, almost compulsively. No, definitely compulsively. It was a habit going back to childhood when friends and family would remark to her mother that she was a little plump and then ask if her mother wanted a guaranteed-to-work diet plan for her.
She was pale with a smattering of freckles marring her skin here and there. Her breasts were full, double Es with dusky areolae and nipples that beaded tight as she hefted her breasts and looked in the mirror.
Her waist dipped in where it was supposed to, but it wasn’t tiny. And her hips, if she stepped forward and peered downward, curved away from her waist and gave her a classic hourglass shape. Growing up in LA hadn’t always been easy, especially with a mom who’d been a Victoria’s Secret model. Her mother was tall and lean and toned, even now at the age of forty-six. Sophie was, by comparison, huge.
Not that she was really huge, but standing next to her mother had always made her feel awkward and ugly. It was part of the reason she’d wanted to escape and do her own thing in New York. She snorted softly. A lot of good that had done her.
Steam rose from the shower, and she pushed the curtain back and stepped inside, groaning when the hot water pummeled her back and shoulders. It was almost as good as sex, she decided.
And that was the wrong thing to think of, because sex immediately conjured the image of Chase. Of his naked chest and broad shoulders when he’d opened his door to her. Of the lazy slant of his eyes as he’d taken her in and the heated grin he’d given her before she’d said her name. The man oozed sex appeal. If the circumstances hadn’t been what they were, she could well imagine herself falling for that charm. Stripping herself and offering her body up for his pleasure.
Not that she had a ton of experience in that department. She was self-conscious, and that made getting naked with a man a little difficult. Part of the reason she’d been susceptible to Grigori’s charm was because he’d told her she was beautiful and desirable. Though he’d never tried to have sex with her, which had made her begin to doubt his sincerity. Why else would he waste time with her? He didn’t listen to the blues, had no idea who Tyler was. It wasn’t as if he wanted to get close to her to meet her stepdad. Even if he did want to meet Tyler, there were easier ways for someone with his money and connections.
Sophie pushed her face under the spray and let the water wash away her thoughts of Grigori and Chase, at least for a few moments. She was alive and that was a good thing.
She soaped herself all over, washed her hair, and then finished her shower when she figured she was in danger of stealing all the hot water. That would be yet another black mark against her in Chase’s book when he stepped into the shower and got hit with cold water.
She dried off, twisted her hair into a towel for a few minutes before combing it out, and then slipped into the robe. Her skin was pink from the hot water, and her face was scrubbed free of makeup. Not that she needed much makeup, but she loved playing with it. If nothing else, she had been fortunate enough to inherit a flawless complexion from her mother.