LITMIR.BIZ

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when she saw Boone right next to the tub. His legs were bare, and as her gaze moved up his body, she saw he’d taken his clothes off. He had a towel around his waist, but he was naked, all right.

      “Scoot up,” he said.

      She heard him, but she was too confused to obey. What, all of a sudden it wasn’t about the job? “What’s going on?”

      “Let me in, and I’ll tell you.”

      She looked up even farther, until she met his eyes. He didn’t look sneaky and he didn’t leer. But she still wasn’t sure.

      “It’s all right,” he said.

      She moved until her chest hit her knees. Boone dropped the towel and stepped carefully into the tub behind her, his feet touching her hips. She got as small as she could, feeling her heartbeat against her kneecaps as she waited for him to sit. He grunted as he stretched his legs on either side of her. He had to bend his knees a bit, as he was too tall, even though the tub was way oversized. Then he gave a great sigh, which she knew had to be because of the jets. His hands gripped her shoulders and he pulled her back, against his chest.

      “Boone?”

      “Yeah?”

      “Care to share now? About what you’re doing.”

      “Getting in the tub.”

      “I know that part. Why?”

      “Because you’re scared.”

      “I’ve been taking baths for a long time all by myself. Haven’t freaked out yet,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the banked tears in her voice.

      “You want me to get out?”

      She put her hands on his knees. “No.”

      “Okay, then. Lean back and relax.”

      She did. Her head fell back to the crook of his neck, her back was cushioned by his chest and she felt surrounded by strength. The thick cock lying against her tailbone was something to think about later.

      “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when this guy is toast?” he asked.

      “Do we have to talk about him?”

      “Yeah, I think we do. But it’s okay,” he said, as his arms wrapped around her, just above her breasts.

      She felt tiny, even though she wasn’t. She was five-seven, and she’d never been with any man who made her feel this delicate. Oddly, it didn’t make her feel helpless. Just, small.

      “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips almost touching her ear.

      Christie quivered, and not from fear. He had her. He had her. She closed her eyes, cocooned in this man, encircled by heat and flesh and wet, and she wasn’t just small. She was…safe.

      Her throat clenched, and it was sheer will that kept her from crying all over again. It seemed impossible that only a moment ago, she’d lost all hope, and now, with his arms, and his words, and his body, he’d changed everything.

      “You okay?”

      She sniffed. Nodded.

      “So what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”

      “Go to Disneyland?”

      “Christie.”

      She smiled. He could do stern schoolmarm so well. “Get a new bed.”

      He chuckled and she felt it all the way down her back. “That’s good. What else?”

      “Get a new job, maybe? Remind my friends that I’m still alive. Take Milo to the park.”

      “Okay. Keep those things in mind. Keep them as close as you can. What we’re going to do tonight, is get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start again. We’ll train in the morning. In the afternoon—”

      “Hold it. Get some rest? I hope that means you plan to sleep with me here in this bathtub.”

      “Uh, no. But tell you what. I’ll make us up a bed in the living room. I’ll be right there, right next to you. Me and Milo. No one’s getting past the two of us.”

      “Well, we can try.”

      “You’ll sleep, trust me. Now,” he said, releasing her from his gentle hold, “lean forward.”

      She did, not even questioning his motive. She curled her arms around her legs, leaned her cheek on her knee and waited.

      His hands, warmed in the water, went to her shoulders. He began a massage that hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. The wonderful won hands down.

      With the patience of a saint, he worked on her neck, her shoulders, even her scalp. She hadn’t moaned so much since the last time she’d had great sex, and that was a long, long time ago.

      He didn’t do anything else. It wasn’t a prelude, it wasn’t about loosening her up. The thing was, they both knew he could have. That she would have welcomed a sexual touch, but that wasn’t what he gave her. This was better. It was what she’d wanted even when she hadn’t known how to ask.

      He had her add hot water three times. Her fingers and toes looked like dried figs, but she never wanted him to stop. Those large hands, those calloused fingers, were so gentle, so amazing, she felt like a puddle of goo.

      “Christie?”

      “Yeah?”

      “I think we’d better get out now. I’m starting to develop gills.”

      She smiled. Turned off the jets and lifted the plug. Her moments of peace were over. Perhaps some of these feelings would linger. If he slept close enough. If she could still feel him next to her.

      Bracing his hands on the edge of the tub, Boone got out first. He got one of her towels from the rack, the big Egyptian cotton bathsheet and instead of drying himself off, he held it out for her.

      All she could think as she stood, as he wrapped her in warm terrycloth, was that this might have been the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her. She wasn’t used to kind men. Not good-looking kind men. That seemed to be a contradiction in terms.

      The only thing she was sure of was that even though she knew the blood was still all over her bed, that the bastard had gotten into her home again, and that it wasn’t over, not by a long shot, she felt relaxed. For that, the man deserved a medal.

      He’d gotten himself a towel, and was using it like sandpaper. His gun, which had been right by the tub the entire time, was in his hand even before he put on his pants.

      She watched the muscles ripple in his broad back, the way his bare toes tried to grip the white carpet. He turned then, and she saw that somewhere between the tub and the towel, he’d gotten hard. It was a shock to see something so sexual, to realize that he’d ignored everything but her comfort, her needs.

      She walked to him, tightening her towel around her chest. When she stood directly behind him, he stopped, dead still, but he said nothing. He was bent slightly forward, his free hand flexed by his side.

      Christie touched his back. His skin rippled and he sucked in a sharp breath, waiting. The only other sound was the echo of her own heart pounding in her ears. She was nervous, but sure. She wanted so badly to give him back something as intimate and generous as what he’d given to her.

      With her left hand still on his back, she touched his side, being as calm and slow-moving as if she were gentling a feral cat. Her fingers slipped over the sharp curve of his hipbone, then through hair that was soft and still damp.

      She found him harder now, and his gasp sharper when she touched him. First with one finger, then with two, running up his length. She curved her palm over the smooth corona—it was moist, but not from the bathwater.

      Boone twitched again—his cock, and then his whole body. She could feel his tension with her left hand, his heat

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