Page 78 of Bodyguard By Night
I would have laughed if I wasn’t supposed to be so outraged. Except I wasn’t. And I really didn’t know what to do with that fact. “What are we doing?”
He invaded my space. “We’re going to sleep. And then we’re going to figure out what to tell Clay and Rachel. Then we’re going to do all the wedding crap.”
“I meant about sleeping arrangements, but thanks for the other details.” I tipped my head back to look him in the eye. “You want me sleeping here?”
“Yep.”
“Have you ever slept with a woman?”
When he frowned at me, the sharp furrows between his brows made me want to smooth them away. Gah, what the heck was wrong with me?
“I’m not a monk.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. We haven’t even done the all the way naked thing—”
“Yet.”
I huffed out a breath. “There’s a difference between getting our groove on and actually sleeping with someone. Especially when you barely know them.”
“It’s a big bed.” He glanced at the dog taking up the bottom third. “Mostly.”
I couldn’t resist giving Midnight’s ears a quick rub. The dog gave a low moan and leaned into me for a heavier touch.
“Lucky dog.”
I glanced back at Ransom. “You like your ears rubbed, tough guy?”
“I like something rubbed, anyway.”
I rested the top of my head against his chest with a laugh, my hands resting on his belly.
He rubbed my arms. “Why don’t you go take a shower? Everything seems better after you’re clean. Then we’ll see if we dirty you back up.”
I didn’t know how to deal with that idea, so I escaped to the en suite bathroom. My breath stalled at the shower with the stone walls much like the rest of the house. That was the only thing primitive about it. Pristine glass encased a huge portion of the room with multiple shower heads hiding in the crevices as well as a bench to sit in the steam.
The rest of the space was painted in a soothing caramel tone. Towels and washcloths were rolled up and tucked in a wooden alcove built into the wall across from the shower. The top shelf held some back-up soaps, both shower and hand. I turned to the sink and mirror and gasped. No wonder he’d sent me in for a shower. My face was a smatter of freckles over pale skin and my hair was…well, I wasn’t going there.
I was a bedraggled mess.
After stripping out of my damp clothes, I folded them neatly onto the reclaimed wood vanity. The piece had been hollowed out, so the bottom was just a trio of wood baskets made in the same ash as the bedroom. Something about the style itched at my brain, but I was just too tired to figure it out.
I peeked into one of the baskets and found a few female products. Maybe he did have women over more often than I realized. I imagined his soap was of the Ivory variety, so I snagged the pricey French stuff at the back of the bin.
I probably should have felt guilty, but the moment I got into the shower, I didn’t care. The heat and water pressure were magnificent. The rain hood and the lower back sprayer were officially the new loves of my life.
“Don’t steal all the hot water,” he yelled through the door.
With a sigh, I finished washing my hair. Surprisingly, Ransom appreciated good hair products. Or the same female who had the fancy body washes had left those provisions, as well.
Not that it mattered to me.
Okay, it mattered, but everyone had a past. It was stupid to overthink it. It was heading for two in the morning and nothing good came of late night spirals.
I wrapped the largest of the towels around myself, then I put up my hair turban-style and opened the door. I should have slipped my damp clothes back on, but hopefully, I could steal something from Ransom.
Steam bellowed out after me. I was prepared to freeze my butt off, but the fire was crackling and Ransom was laying on the end of the bed beside the dog, his feet still on the floor.
His hands were folded on his belly and his breathing was even.