Holding Strong
Page 30
He kissed her neck, wrapped the towel around her and scooped her up. She knew he was strong; anyone could look at him and see that. But he held her with such ease it still impressed her and made her feel like the quintessential “little lady.”
As he strode to the bed, he said, “I’m glad you didn’t try washing your hair.”
Resting her cheek against his hard shoulder, one hand over his heartbeat, she admitted, “I couldn’t.”
He paused by the bed with her still comfortably in his arms. “Are you feeling any better at all?” His mouth brushed her temple. “You don’t feel as feverish.”
Around a yawn, she whispered, “That’s why I thought I could shower.” But halfway through she’d known it was a very bad idea.
“I’m sorry I took so long.” He tilted her back a little to look at her. “Do you have anything to wear?”
With the way he held her, the towel barely kept her concealed. Then she noticed Denver glancing at the dresser mirror beyond and when she looked... Oh God. She squirmed to get free.
He only tightened his hold. “Settle down.”
“Stop looking at me!”
He gave one more long perusal at the mirror. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
The image in the mirror showed her legs tucked up over his arm, the loose towel hanging well beneath her backside, and a whole lot of nakedness in between. He could literally see from back of the thighs to the middle of her back.
Her heart hurt in her chest and red-hot humiliation scalded her. “Denver...”
He hugged her—and turned so that her behind was no longer aimed at the mirror, but still didn’t put her down. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. I like looking at you.”
“Not like that!”
“Especially like that.” He nuzzled against her. “I want to see every part of you.”
Tucking her burning face against his throat, she groaned, “This is so awful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, low and rough near her ear.
That was not a beautiful shot, but she didn’t have the will to debate it with him right now. “My shirt...” She glanced at the same shirt she’d removed before getting in the shower. It was now badly rumpled, but anything would be better than staying so vulnerable.
Denver continued to study her face. “One day soon, you’ll show me everything I want to see.”
Ready to die of embarrassment and half afraid he was right, she said nothing.
He took in her expression, then turned his head to eye her discarded shirt on the dresser. “I brought a few extras if you want one of mine instead.” His smile went crooked. “Much as I enjoy seeing you, it’ll probably be better for my sanity if you don’t stay naked.”
“I wouldn’t!”
He grunted. “Left on your own, we both know you wouldn’t have had the grit to worry about it.”
True enough. “Somehow,” she muttered, “I’d have figured it out.”
“Maybe.” After lowering her to the bed, he pulled away the towel and his attention moved over her in minute detail again. “Now you don’t have to.” He kissed her forehead, her shoulder, and the top of one breast before going to his bag and removing a black SBC T-shirt.
Hating her own weakness, Cherry managed to sit back up before he got to her, but she let him drop the shirt over her head and even tug her arms through the short sleeves.
Wearing an indulgent, very male smile, he said, “Poor baby. You’re really shot, aren’t you?” He pulled the sheet over her lap and propped the bed pillows behind her.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.” He pulled the band from her hair and ran his fingers through it to smooth it out. “I told you there’s something going around. I’ve seen a few fighters go down for the count.”
And she wasn’t a big, muscled, extremely fit fighter. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. You just need to take it easy a few days.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Think you can stay awake long enough to take some medicine and get down some fluids?”
“Yes.” Honestly, now that she was back in the bed, she knew she did feel better for being clean. “What time do we have to check out?”
He opened an orange juice and handed her pills to take, then liquid cough medicine, before answering. “I extended your stay another day.”
Something must have shown on her face, because he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
As he strode to the bed, he said, “I’m glad you didn’t try washing your hair.”
Resting her cheek against his hard shoulder, one hand over his heartbeat, she admitted, “I couldn’t.”
He paused by the bed with her still comfortably in his arms. “Are you feeling any better at all?” His mouth brushed her temple. “You don’t feel as feverish.”
Around a yawn, she whispered, “That’s why I thought I could shower.” But halfway through she’d known it was a very bad idea.
“I’m sorry I took so long.” He tilted her back a little to look at her. “Do you have anything to wear?”
With the way he held her, the towel barely kept her concealed. Then she noticed Denver glancing at the dresser mirror beyond and when she looked... Oh God. She squirmed to get free.
He only tightened his hold. “Settle down.”
“Stop looking at me!”
He gave one more long perusal at the mirror. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
The image in the mirror showed her legs tucked up over his arm, the loose towel hanging well beneath her backside, and a whole lot of nakedness in between. He could literally see from back of the thighs to the middle of her back.
Her heart hurt in her chest and red-hot humiliation scalded her. “Denver...”
He hugged her—and turned so that her behind was no longer aimed at the mirror, but still didn’t put her down. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. I like looking at you.”
“Not like that!”
“Especially like that.” He nuzzled against her. “I want to see every part of you.”
Tucking her burning face against his throat, she groaned, “This is so awful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, low and rough near her ear.
That was not a beautiful shot, but she didn’t have the will to debate it with him right now. “My shirt...” She glanced at the same shirt she’d removed before getting in the shower. It was now badly rumpled, but anything would be better than staying so vulnerable.
Denver continued to study her face. “One day soon, you’ll show me everything I want to see.”
Ready to die of embarrassment and half afraid he was right, she said nothing.
He took in her expression, then turned his head to eye her discarded shirt on the dresser. “I brought a few extras if you want one of mine instead.” His smile went crooked. “Much as I enjoy seeing you, it’ll probably be better for my sanity if you don’t stay naked.”
“I wouldn’t!”
He grunted. “Left on your own, we both know you wouldn’t have had the grit to worry about it.”
True enough. “Somehow,” she muttered, “I’d have figured it out.”
“Maybe.” After lowering her to the bed, he pulled away the towel and his attention moved over her in minute detail again. “Now you don’t have to.” He kissed her forehead, her shoulder, and the top of one breast before going to his bag and removing a black SBC T-shirt.
Hating her own weakness, Cherry managed to sit back up before he got to her, but she let him drop the shirt over her head and even tug her arms through the short sleeves.
Wearing an indulgent, very male smile, he said, “Poor baby. You’re really shot, aren’t you?” He pulled the sheet over her lap and propped the bed pillows behind her.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.” He pulled the band from her hair and ran his fingers through it to smooth it out. “I told you there’s something going around. I’ve seen a few fighters go down for the count.”
And she wasn’t a big, muscled, extremely fit fighter. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. You just need to take it easy a few days.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Think you can stay awake long enough to take some medicine and get down some fluids?”
“Yes.” Honestly, now that she was back in the bed, she knew she did feel better for being clean. “What time do we have to check out?”
He opened an orange juice and handed her pills to take, then liquid cough medicine, before answering. “I extended your stay another day.”
Something must have shown on her face, because he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
