We say our goodbyes, and Logan gives me a hug and tells me he will see me tomorrow. Once I shut the door, Tucker walks up behind me and locks up, his breath tickling the hair on the back of my neck. There is no personal space with this man, not that I mind it all that much.
When I turn around and come face to face with him, a snort pops out of me. I cover my mouth and nose quickly, but it's too late, the damage is done. He's even angrier, which just makes me laugh more.
Between giggles, I say, "You're just so pretty."
Slowly, Tucker pins me up against the door, his face coming within inches of mine.
Errr . . .
For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything; he just takes me in, his eyes wandering back and forth between mine, his breath steady, and his body like a wall of armor, holding me in place. "You know, if I wasn't so damn happy to see you smiling, laughing, and having one hell of a time, I would be fucking pissed at you right now for turning that little gathering into a beauty session. But fuck, seeing you relaxed where you're not putting the needs of everyone else above your own, it warms my cold soul." He leans in and kisses me on the forehead. "I fucking like it, babe."
Gulping, I hold my breath, unsure of what to say, and definitely how to react.
Before I can reply, he lifts off the door and grabs my hand. "Come on, show me how to get this shit off. We can clean up in the morning."
We head toward the bathroom, my hand feeling miniature in his strong palm, and my stride having to make up for his larger one.
"I don't know how you can wear this shit. It feels like I have mud on my face."
I turn him and pat the counter for him to sit on. But before he sits, he takes off his shirt and tosses it on the ground. "I don't want any of that stuff getting on my clothes."
I swallow . . . hard.
I've seen Tucker with his shirt off since I've moved in, but for some reason, with the recent close proximity we've shared, I feel my body start to heat up. I was spooned by that chest . . .
Don't look down. Don't scan his body, and for the love of God, don't reach out and feel each intricate, well-defined ab.
LEAVE HIS BODY ALONE.
I got this. Taking a deep breath, I reach into the medicine cabinet and pull out my makeup wipes. "Here. Take one of these and start wiping."
Together, we wipe our makeup off. And for the first time in an hour, Tucker smiles at me. Playfully, he nudges my side with his foot.
"Look at us, a bunch of ladies taking our makeup off for the night."
That garners a snort out of me, which makes him laugh as well. God, his laugh. It's so rich and velvety that it hits me straight in my core. Hell, that sound could make a feral cat moan out loud.
"We should do this every night together," I joke.
"Or not. Honestly, you shouldn't be wearing makeup anyway. You're pretty without." Cue the rapid beating of my heart. "You really didn't wear a lot of makeup in high school. I liked that about you."
"My mom wasn't too keen on me wearing makeup. Still isn't."
"I agree with your mom." Taking another wipe from the package, Tucker pulls me between his legs and starts swabbing my face clean. He's gentle with each stroke, caressing my cheek with his other hand, giving me one of the most sensual experiences of my life. It's weirdly intimate, a moment I almost feel like we shouldn't be sharing, but a moment I wouldn't trade for anything. How did we get so comfortable with each other? We were never like this. Never tactile with each other. He was always with . . .
"Tonight was fun." I close my eyes as he holds my face and wipes off my eyeshadow. "Besides the whole makeup thing."
"Ah, you liked it. Stop trying to be all manly around me."
"I don't have to try to be manly, babe." I open my eyes in time to see him wink at me. Shit.
Change of subject. "I like Racer and Smalls. Did you meet them on the job?"
"Yeah. We've been working together for a few years now. Over the last two years, they've really been there for me. I would be lost without them."
Tucker tosses the wipe to the side and hops off the counter as I stand still in the small, flamingo-covered bathroom.
They've really been there for me . . .
His comment brings back a truckload of guilt I've carried since I chose a side. I don't think it was wrong that I looked out for Sadie. She'd been my best friend for over ten years. I had seen Tucker as responsible for her pain and heartache. But there are always two sides to every story. Knowing what he had done to embrace Sadie's pregnancy, and a house in this area couldn't be cheap, I wonder if I should have asked someone to reach out to Tucker. He wasn't guilty as such. Now, with the blessing of hindsight, I wish I hadn't so easily overlooked how lost Tucker would have been without the woman in his life who had clearly been his everything. He pursued her time after time, fight after fight, because he loved her. And that wasn't a crime. But I didn't have that perspective back then. No one did, really. But, considering my cool lack of concern for him and his emotional state, I feel sick.