Oakley #3
“Good. I don’t think it’s fractured or broken, but it’ll definitely be sore for a few days. You’ve already got a nasty bruise forming.” He drops the towel back around me, covering me up again. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.” I start to hop down from the counter, but before I can, he grips me around the waist with both hands and effortlessly sets me on my feet.
His hands cautiously linger at my waist, in case I can’t stand on my own. Dull pain lances through my hip, but I’m able to stand on shaky legs.
“Stay here. I’ll grab you some clothes.” He leaves the bathroom, and I stand there awkwardly, clutching the towel to my chest. He rummages around for a minute in the bedroom, and with the brief reprieve, I let out a shaky breath.
My eyes take in the clawfoot tub against the far wall, and images of sinking into warm, soapy water fill my mind. I still need to wash, need to soak this day off of me, but, with how sore my hip is right now, I’m not sure I could stand in the shower.
Levi comes back a minute later with a folded black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He places them on the counter behind me and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking sheepish.
“It didn’t feel right to go through your things to grab your clothes, so I figured you can borrow some of mine for tonight.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, not bothering to tell him that I don’t mind sleeping in his clothes tonight.
That I probably won’t want to take them off, even after tonight.
“Do you mind if I take a bath? I’m disgusting.
” I laugh awkwardly, my joke not landing with the feeble attempt at levity I mean it to when he doesn’t join in.
“You’re anything but.” His compliment catches me off guard as does the warm fuzzy feeling it evokes. He doesn’t answer my question, instead moving to the tub and turning the taps, testing the water temperature with his hand before plugging the drain and letting it fill.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I say, needing to fill the silence.
He doesn’t turn from where he stares into the tub, watching the water rise.
“I wasn’t asleep. I was waiting up to make sure you got home okay.
I—” He pauses as if contemplating his next words.
“I should have waited for you to leave first. I’m sorry.
” Any other night, he waits for me in the parking lot, only turning on his truck and pulling out once he sees I’ve pulled out in front of him.
“I didn’t give you a reason to stay.” Guilt over how I spoke to him tonight cascades through me and makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Levi. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”
He pulls a bottle of something out from under the sink, unscrewing the cap and pouring a healthy amount beneath the flow of water. “Why did you?” The question should be harsh, condescending, but all that greets me is guarded curiosity in his tone.
I sigh. “It was a long night, and I—” I stumble over the words, not wanting to bring it up, but know I need to air it out before it eats me alive.
“I guess I didn’t expect to see you with Layla.
And it’s not an excuse, but I was pissed that she ditched me to tend the bar on my own.
Especially on the busiest night of the week.
” My words hang heavy in the steamy air of the bathroom, and anxiety twists my insides as I wait for his response.
He cuts the water off and comes over to me. My eyes fix on my chipped toenail polish, and I bite my lip to give myself something else to focus on as the silence threatens to suffocate me.
A finger slips beneath my chin, and he tilts my face up to his. He’s close. So close I can smell the mint of his toothpaste with every one of his exhales.
“There is nothing going on between Layla and me. Absolutely nothing.” His words are firm.
“I know what I saw. She was all over you.” I don’t mean to sound dismissive or condescending, but my eyes didn’t lie to me in that bar.
“And if you had kept watching, you would have seen me shove her off. Trust me, I didn’t ask for that. There’s only one woman whose attention I crave.”
I scoff. “And whose is that?”
He gives a humorless laugh. “You really need me to tell you?”
“Yes.”
He grips my chin harder, command and dominance in his touch that I swear would buckle my knees if I wasn’t leaning against the counter.
“You’re a smart woman, Oakley. Tell me you haven’t figured it out yet.”
A beat passes. A breath shared between us as I examine him with the new possibility that he wants this as much as I do.
I can’t voice it for the same reason he can’t.
There’s a longing in the tension, a delicious anticipation that coasts between us, and for the life of me, I don’t want it to shatter.
Not yet.
I step out of his touch, and he lets me go, watching me the way a predator watches its prey as I make my way towards the tub.
I drop the towel, a silent invitation for him to look, to see me the way I truly want him to. His audible intake of breath is sexy as fuck, and it skitters over my skin, raising goosebumps as I slowly lower myself into the warm water.