She cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Wow.”
And that’s when it hit me. I’d always acted like Heath when I was with her, but as far as my past was concerned, I’d only been able to give her Luke Cosgrove—twenty-nine-year-old only child from Orlando, working as a personal trainer until I was able to open my own gym. Lies. Lies. And more lies. Yet I wanted her to trust me.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from pulling her back into my arms. “Why don’t you let me take Tessa downstairs while you take a long bath and get ready for bed? We’ll come back up in thirty minutes with some food and ibuprofen, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me.”
Her smile fell, and she uncomfortably cut her eyes to the side. “Tessa stays with me.”
“Okay,” I replied immediately. “Then get in there, take a bath, put on some of the clothes Elisabeth bought you, and I’ll be back up in thirty minutes with some food and ibuprofen to answer anything you want to know about me.” I grinned.
A shy smile played on her lips as she continued to look off to the side. “Okay.”
“Thirty minutes,” I reminded her, backing away.
“Thirty minutes,” she repeated before biting her bottom lip.
She didn’t move. Nor did she look at me.
However, I kept backing toward the stairs because it was either that or bite that fucking bottom lip of hers, too.
Thirty long minutes later, I headed back up the stairs with a bottle of ibuprofen, a large Italian-sausage-andonion pizza, two cups, and a two-liter of Coke—and not the diet shit she drank.
I rapped softly on the door, and seconds later, she pulled it open an inch.
Literally. One inch.
“It’s just me,” I assured, but she didn’t open it wider.
She put her lips to the crack. “Do you remember when you told me about your sisters and how they liked to embarrass you?”
I twisted my lips. “Uh…it was thirty minutes ago, Clare. Can’t exactly forget.”
“Right. Well, I think Elisabeth might be my long-lost sister because this is what she bought me to sleep in.” She swung the door open, and it was all I could do not to drop the pizza.
The box bumbled in my hand as I raked my eyes over her from head to toe—then again for good measure. Then again because…well, I was a man and she was wearing a tiny, black, silky dress that clung to every curve of her petite body. She was still wearing a bra, but the swells of her breasts were exposed at the top, a fucking perfect line of cleavage taunting me.
I was going to lose my mind if I had to sit and talk to her while she was wearing that.
“I see your point,” I mumbled, raking my eyes over her one last time before pulling my shit together.
“This is all she bought!” she exclaimed on a whisper. “Twelve of them to be exact. All in different colors and styles. Not even so much as a pair of yoga pants.”
Well, there was one positive. I’d stared at her ass in those enough to know they weren’t much better than this little nightgown thingy. Though I feared that Clare in a potato sack would still have the same effect on me.
“Okay. We can fix this,” I declared, walking into the room and setting the pizza and the Coke on the foot of the bed, where Tessa was sound asleep, headphones still on, iPad still curled against her chest.
I glanced back at Clare, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress the groan when I got another eyeful. Then I stripped my T-shirt over my head and tossed it in her direction. “Here. Put this on.”
My groan finally escaped as her eyes lingered on my abs just before she tugged it on.
Offering her that shirt was quite possibly the worst decision I’d ever made.
Because, while my shirt covered her exposed chest, it left her standing in front of me, in a bedroom, wearing my shirt.
Do not go there, Light.
She is not yours.
But she could be…
“Jesus fuck,” I mumbled, searching around the room.
Surely, Elisabeth had to have bought her a robe—or, if I was really lucky, a burka.
No such luck, but I found a throw blanket hanging over the chair in the corner.
I tortured myself with one last glance at her before offering the blanket in her direction. “Maybe you should cover up with that.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, her face flashing bright red as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
I gripped the back of my neck. “You’re beautiful, Clare. Nothing to apologize for.” For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me?
She cleared her throat and then pointedly dropped her gaze to my chest. “Well…um…with that same sentiment in mind, perhaps you should go grab another shirt.”
And take a cold shower.
And bleach my retinas to forget how goddamn sexy she was in that nightgown and even more so in my shirt.