“Tomorrow,” she repeated, tramping up the stairs without looking back. Her hands shook so hard from exhaustion and reaction, she couldn’t have found the keyhole if she still had a key to put in it. Good thing she hadn’t locked up when she left, or she’d have had no option but to go over to the main house with Dylan. And spending the night under separate roofs was definitely the wiser course.
Inside her apartment, she toed off her shoes and scooped up MacDuff, soaking in the comfort of his warm, furry body. A semi-hysterical chuckle escaped her when he licked her face. Only he would truly appreciate the fact that she looked and smelled like Smoky the Bear. When the dog finally wriggled to get down, all Gracie wanted was to enjoy the luxury of a hot, soapy shower.
And then she wanted clean, cool sheets.
And sleep. Lots of deep, mind-numbing sleep to block out the recurring bouts of terror she couldn’t seem to banish for intervals longer than five minutes at a time.
Of course, in the best of all possible worlds, having Dylan in bed beside her would help—inside her would be even better. Her blood hummed with the need for him that had tempted her all week and had been aroused to gigantic proportions earlier that evening. She knew better than to cast her thoughts in that direction. It would be stupid to give in to weakness.
When the shower water finally ran cold, she’d scrubbed and steamed away the grit and grime. But neither the remnants of fear nor her need for Dylan had been washed down the drain.
Dressed in a cotton T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel, turban-style. In the shower, she’d noticed a jagged scrape on her arm. The EMTs had treated her hands and the gash on her neck, but the place on her arm required attention, too. While she pulled out her medical bag, a knock sounded on the door. With a leap of her pulse, she knew without looking that Dylan lurked on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” The question came out more sharply than she intended, but did he have to look so gorgeous? Did he have to have a five-hundred-dollar haircut that fell perfectly, wet or dry, combed or not? Did he have to have deep, insightful eyes that warmed her in hidden places? Did he have to have those strong, magnificent arms she wanted to have wrapped around her? And if he had to have all those things, now, when she was at her most vulnerable, why, oh why, couldn’t he have had the good sense to stay away?
Chapter Nineteen
“Too wired to sleep.” His gaze made a slow sweep from towel to toe and lingered over interesting bits along the way. “When I saw your light on, I hoped you’d want company.”
She reached up to tuck the towel more firmly around her head. Before she could make up her mind about his offer, he took her hand and bent her arm at the elbow. “How did this happen?” He gestured to the scrap she’d discovered earlier.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe from the window. Or the tree branch.”
“Where’s the antiseptic?” He sounded brusque, almost angry. “In the bathroom?” He didn’t wait for confirmation but headed that way, pulling her along with him.
“It’s not that bad. I’ll take care of it.” She squirmed at the idea of him opening her medicine cabinet and tending to her in a personal, proprietary way in the close quarters of the bathroom. Besides, she could take care of herself—if he weren’t standing so close.
“One-handed? I don’t think so.” In the bathroom, he pinned her arm firmly between them, peering at the wound as he cleaned and disinfected it with the supplies she handed him. “Does it need stitches?”
“No,” she said, in a high thin voice she wouldn’t have recognized as hers.
“Okay.” His nod of understanding that only flustered her more.
She looked up in time to see a flicker of interest in his eyes, deep and inviting, as if he intended to wrap her inside his heat and never let her go. He must have looked at a thousand women that way, but he had never looked at her that way. No one ever had.
While her head spun with the possibilities, she thought he was bending over her arm for an up-close inspection of her wound. Instead, he nearly sent her through the roof when he pursed his lips and blew on it.
“Don’t!” Less worried about germs than about her skyrocketing heart rate, she jumped back and bumped her head on the door. “Ow.”
God, why was she so awkward and bad at this? She didn’t excel at physical relationships at the best of times. Responding to any move by Dylan when her defenses dipped so low would be the height of insanity.
Especially after the devastating way her relationship with Baxter had ended. Any scraps of sexual self-confidence that remained after her experience with him would be destroyed by one cross-eyed look, laugh, or smirk from Dylan.
“I’m sorry you got hurt.” His lips grazed her wrist so feather-light she couldn’t be positive he’d kissed it. Surely he hadn’t. Had he? Did he have no understanding of diseases transmitted through bodily fluids?
“Not your fault.” Removing her arm from his grasp, she held it against her chest. She tried to ease away from him, but he took another step closer, trapping her body between his and the sink.
“It was my cabin.”
“You didn’t start the fire.” The fire chief’s arson theory did seem like the most reasonable explanation.
“Someone with a grudge against me or my family did, which still makes me responsible.”
“You don’t think it was someone local, do you?” She wanted to take her mind off the thoughtful way he watched her. But every time she remembered the floor collapsing under his feet, shivers racked her. “If someone was angry about your family closing the factory, why wait until now to get revenge? And wouldn’t the factory building have been a more suitable target?”
“Maybe in all my bungling around this week, I offended someone more than I realized.”
Did he realize that his fingers stroked the inside of her arm? “Wh-who?”
“If I knew, I’d be out there ripping them a new one for putting you in danger.”
Simmering anger surged to life in his eyes. For him to be so angry on her behalf stunned her. He reached for her then, and every living tissue in her body shouted yes!
He was all wrong for her, but he was here and he was the one she wanted. She wanted to run her hands down his body and take his mouth with hers. She wanted to slide against his skin, to feel him inside her, to forget about fire and destruction and near death experiences.
“I thought you didn’t want me,” she confessed as he closed the gap between them.
“Not want you?” His chuckle caressed her cheek. “I’ve only known you for three days, but I’ve wanted you forever.” Caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he stroked down her jaw to the hollow at the base of her neck.
Even as Gracie drowned in his words and touch, an inner voice whispered caution. She inched away from him. “You managed to stop earlier.”
“My mistake.” He pulled her in close. “I wanted to wait to be with you until everything was perfect. But when the cabin went up in flames, I thought, you’re perfect, Gracie. To hell with everything else.” He kissed her chin. “When you jumped out the window, I promised myself that if we made it out safely, the very first thing I was gonna do afterward was make love to you.”
“Don’t I have anything to say about it?” she asked around the lick of his tongue. What if they made love and she disappointed him? She couldn’t live with the humiliation or disappointment.
“You’re the only one who does.” He cradled her head in Neosporin-scented hands. His fingers tunneled beneath the towel and massaged their way along her scalp, sending tingles rippling down her spine.
“You say stop, we stop. But nothing else in this world will keep me from having you right here. Right now. Not raccoons, fires, acts of God, nuclear bombs, or even your grandmother at your door will be able to distract me.” His mouth flirted with hers in a kiss so brief, so gentle she nearly screamed in frustration. “Will they?”