obviously retrieved from the hall closet. The goofy grin grew wider as he gazed at my naked body, his fingers caressing the towel.
I bounced between fight and flight. I could scream righteous indignation and toss him out of the house or I could grab the lion by the mane and jump on for a ride.
I chose the second.
“Just wanted to check on you.” He shook the body-length wrap. “And I see you’re looking quite well.”
I turned off the water and slowly stepped out of the bathtub, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of my body. “If your definition of ‘well’ includes being covered with more scrapes and bruises than I have skin for, then I guess I’m just fine.” His eyes widened as I took the towel from him and wrapped it around me. “See something you like?”
He let out something between a whimper and a sigh as his eyes roamed over me. I allowed myself a smug inner grin. Been a while since I’d had an admirer and I was going to make the most of it.
“And before you ask, I like to play in the dark.” My eyes went below his belt.
He didn’t flinch, instead allowing me to pick up the clean clothing and saunter past him into the bedroom.
The bastard had not only gone and found the best towel in the house but he had made up the bed with a new set of white sheets retrieved from my linen closet. The old ones, neatly folded, lay in the corner. Great. He was housebroken.
I dropped the damp towel on the floor, reveling somewhat in my domination of the situation. It wasn’t too often I had the chance to render a loudmouth schnook speechless.
“Your back.” The words weren’t whispered in awe of my superior form. Closing my eyes, I winced. I had forgotten. Been a long time since I’d been naked in front of anyone other than Jazz.
His eyes had to be locked on the crisscrossing scarlet scars on my back, where it looked as if I had been attacked by a tiger. The scars hadn’t faded much thanks to my skin being so fair and I knew he saw them almost as fresh as the day I had received them.
I reached down and grabbed my sweatshirt. It took a second to yank it over my head, my damp ponytail getting in the way.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. The sweatpants were next, with me hopping from one foot to the other as I made my way toward the stairs.
“Accident?”
“Of a sort.” I walked down the steps, putting one hand out to balance myself. The bloody smears on both sides of the staircase laid out the trail of our battle to the final crashing halt on the landing. I paused there for a minute, letting the new wave of smells drift across my tongue. “What’s that?”
“Tea, toast and I managed to find some jam in the back of the refrigerator that wasn’t moldy.” The soft laugh reached my ears while he walked down to stand behind me. “Grape, I do believe. And you really need to stock more stuff in there.”
“I usually eat out.” I made my way to the kitchen and spotted the fat Brown Betty teapot sitting on the table with two cups daintily set out, milk already in the bottom of the mugs. Two slices of toast, neatly buttered and sliced in half, made up the rest of the menu with the aforementioned bottle of jam sitting by my plate with a spoon waiting to do service.
I sat down and picked up the big brown teapot, wincing at the ache in my arm. “Shall I pour?”
“Sure.” Bran watched while I filled both mugs and returned the teapot to the tabletop with a resounding thud. “Sore, eh?”
“You think?” I picked up one piece of toast and smeared enough jam onto the bread to make it bend under the weight. “You roll down the stairs and see how you feel.”
“Been there, done that.” He slid another pair of white pills across the table. “Figured you’d want another set of these since the last ones didn’t survive.”
“Thanks.” I washed them down with a mouthful of hot tea and looked at him over the brim of the mug.
Bran picked up his own mug and cupped it with both hands. “So, want to
I bounced between fight and flight. I could scream righteous indignation and toss him out of the house or I could grab the lion by the mane and jump on for a ride.
I chose the second.
“Just wanted to check on you.” He shook the body-length wrap. “And I see you’re looking quite well.”
I turned off the water and slowly stepped out of the bathtub, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of my body. “If your definition of ‘well’ includes being covered with more scrapes and bruises than I have skin for, then I guess I’m just fine.” His eyes widened as I took the towel from him and wrapped it around me. “See something you like?”
He let out something between a whimper and a sigh as his eyes roamed over me. I allowed myself a smug inner grin. Been a while since I’d had an admirer and I was going to make the most of it.
“And before you ask, I like to play in the dark.” My eyes went below his belt.
He didn’t flinch, instead allowing me to pick up the clean clothing and saunter past him into the bedroom.
The bastard had not only gone and found the best towel in the house but he had made up the bed with a new set of white sheets retrieved from my linen closet. The old ones, neatly folded, lay in the corner. Great. He was housebroken.
I dropped the damp towel on the floor, reveling somewhat in my domination of the situation. It wasn’t too often I had the chance to render a loudmouth schnook speechless.
“Your back.” The words weren’t whispered in awe of my superior form. Closing my eyes, I winced. I had forgotten. Been a long time since I’d been naked in front of anyone other than Jazz.
His eyes had to be locked on the crisscrossing scarlet scars on my back, where it looked as if I had been attacked by a tiger. The scars hadn’t faded much thanks to my skin being so fair and I knew he saw them almost as fresh as the day I had received them.
I reached down and grabbed my sweatshirt. It took a second to yank it over my head, my damp ponytail getting in the way.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. The sweatpants were next, with me hopping from one foot to the other as I made my way toward the stairs.
“Accident?”
“Of a sort.” I walked down the steps, putting one hand out to balance myself. The bloody smears on both sides of the staircase laid out the trail of our battle to the final crashing halt on the landing. I paused there for a minute, letting the new wave of smells drift across my tongue. “What’s that?”
“Tea, toast and I managed to find some jam in the back of the refrigerator that wasn’t moldy.” The soft laugh reached my ears while he walked down to stand behind me. “Grape, I do believe. And you really need to stock more stuff in there.”
“I usually eat out.” I made my way to the kitchen and spotted the fat Brown Betty teapot sitting on the table with two cups daintily set out, milk already in the bottom of the mugs. Two slices of toast, neatly buttered and sliced in half, made up the rest of the menu with the aforementioned bottle of jam sitting by my plate with a spoon waiting to do service.
I sat down and picked up the big brown teapot, wincing at the ache in my arm. “Shall I pour?”
“Sure.” Bran watched while I filled both mugs and returned the teapot to the tabletop with a resounding thud. “Sore, eh?”
“You think?” I picked up one piece of toast and smeared enough jam onto the bread to make it bend under the weight. “You roll down the stairs and see how you feel.”
“Been there, done that.” He slid another pair of white pills across the table. “Figured you’d want another set of these since the last ones didn’t survive.”
“Thanks.” I washed them down with a mouthful of hot tea and looked at him over the brim of the mug.
Bran picked up his own mug and cupped it with both hands. “So, want to
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