Chapter Fifteen #2
The bar sat just off the lobby, all warm lighting and low music. Everything here probably cost more than my monthly rent, but Eric moved through it like he belonged. Because he did. Hell, this place was probably like a second home to him.
Zane spotted Eric immediately and leaned across the polished counter like he’d been waiting for a cue.
“Well, hello there,” he drawled when Eric introduced us. “Nice to finally have someone worth looking at. I was tired of this guy’s ugly mug.”
“Careful. She bites.” Eric’s hand slid to the small of my back, possessive and sure.
Zane’s grin widened. “I’m willing to risk it.”
I should have rolled my eyes. Instead, I laughed.
Zane flirted shamelessly while mixing our drinks, inventing outrageous stories about Eric’s teenage disasters—stories that took place right here, where he’d spent childhood summers and family vacations with lake views and room service at his fingertips.
Eric didn’t rise to the bait. He just sat close, one hand warm and steady at my back, occasionally cutting in with a dry correction that only made Zane louder.
For those few minutes, the hospital felt farther away. The guilt softened at the edges. Hunter’s voice in my head quieted to something manageable.
I wasn’t spiraling anymore. I was smiling.
When Eric decided time was up, he didn’t ask. He finished his drink, thanked his cousin, and guided me toward the elevators.
Zane called after us that he expected a full report later.
Eric didn’t dignify it with a response. He just pressed the elevator button and looked down at me, satisfied. “Better?”
And annoyingly, wonderfully, I was. A little tipsy, completely worn out…but better.
The warmth didn’t last long. By the time we stepped into my room, the weight of the day settled back into my bones, and my feet dragged across the carpet.
“Why don’t we take a hot shower and then get some sleep?” His hands settled on my shoulders.
His thumbs dug in, kneading out tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
“I don’t know if I can stand that long. I know this was my idea, but I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll hold you up.” There was no teasing in it. No room for debate, either.
He took my hand and guided me toward the bathroom before I could argue, already turning on the water, already in motion. He moved with the assuredness of someone used to taking care of things. Of taking care of people.
He stripped off his shirt, then the rest, efficient and not at all self-conscious.
Even through the haze of exhaustion, the sight of him lit me up. Broad shoulders. Strong back. Muscle shifting under skin with power and purpose. Dark ink covered his entire left shoulder—bold lines and curves that wrapped around the muscle, telling a story I couldn't read from this angle.
With his back to me, he adjusted the water temperature while I let my gaze wander lower, appreciating the view without apology.
He turned and caught me staring. A slow smirk curved his mouth. “You need help over there?”
Before I could answer, he crossed the space between us in a single stride.
I closed my eyes, expecting the brush of his hands.
Instead, I felt fabric loosen and fall. Piece by piece, he undressed me without grazing my skin, without giving me what I expected. The restraint made my pulse jump harder than if he’d touched me.
When the last layer slipped away, I stood there bare, eyes still closed, suddenly aware of everything. My stomach. My hips. The stretch marks, and the C-section scar I rarely thought about until moments like this.
“Jamie.” His voice wasn’t playful or hungry. It was sure. “Don’t hide those pretty blues from me. Open your eyes.”
I did.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze from beneath my lashes.
Eric wasn’t looking over my body the way I’d feared. He wasn’t cataloging flaws or tracing my scar with his eyes. He was looking at my face.
No, it went deeper than that. His gaze held mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
“You’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”
His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then slid down along my jaw, steady and warm. He tipped my chin up, aligning our mouths.
“And I’m not just talking about your body. Though that part of you is pretty damn incredible too.”
“Eric,” I breathed, half protest, half plea.
“Shh.” His thumb brushed my lower lip before he kissed me. “Let’s not waste all the hot water.”
I’d assumed the shower suggestion came with certain expectations. But I was wrong.
He kept it simple, practical. We washed separately, trading places under the spray. No wandering hands. No escalation. Just the quiet intimacy of shared space.
When he stepped behind me, I tensed on instinct, but his hands slid into my hair and began working the shampoo in with firm, steady pressure. He massaged my scalp like he meant to untangle more than just knots, and by the time he rinsed it out, my muscles had gone slack.
I was barely upright.
But before I could sway, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me securely as he guided me out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around me and dried me with the same deliberate attention he seemed to give everything.
“Feel better?” he murmured against the shell of my ear.
“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage.
In one smooth movement, he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down like I weighed nothing at all. I was vaguely aware of him finishing the job with the towel and tucking me under the covers. At some point, the room dimmed. Then my eyes closed.
I didn’t notice if he took a moment for himself. I only noticed when he slid in beside me.
A faint, ridiculous voice in the back of my mind scolded me for falling asleep next to a perfect, naked man without taking advantage of the opportunity.
But exhaustion won.
The last thing I registered was the solid warmth of his chest under my cheek, the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my ear.
For once, I wasn’t alone in the dark.