Page 94 of Forced Proximity

Ten minutes later, after Jack gives me the green light to sleep over, I drag myself up the stairs into the guest bedroom. On the bed lay several folded towels, a bottle of water, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a couple of bananas and a shirt. I smile at the fruit. But a shirt? A note rests on top of the pile.

Sorry – didn’t have any pajamas that will fit you. So, I brought my shirt for you to use. Sleep well, J.

He’s got freakishly neat handwriting. Who knew?

I step into the shower and clean the fight off my skin. Dirt swirls down the drain, and the heated stream relieves my aching muscles. I love my strength but hate the brawl. After an evening like this, nothing feels good except that I kept my client safe.

Thoroughly clean, smelling of lavender body wash and on the verge of collapsing with fatigue, I wrap myself up in an ultra-cozy, cloud-like towel and sigh. I check my face in the mirror, angling side to side. Not too bad. Some bruises forming, and the split lip will heal in a few days.

I pull on the shirt and stumble into bed. Oof. What a freaking day. I pick up the shirt from the neck and inhale. It smells just like him. I wrap my arm across myself and drift to sleep.

Tomorrow feels like the start of something new. Here’s hoping nothing else gets thrown our way.

Chapter 43

Justin

Outside the guest bedroom, I stand and wait, feeling like an outsider in my own home. I want to bust in, scoop Lexi into my arms, confirm she’s okay after the events of last night. But I also want to let her sleep, relax and kiss each one of her bruises away. I lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes.

Lexi loves me.

She only said it once, so quietly I nearly missed it, and I almost begged her to say it again and again. It hasn’t sunk in. It feels like at any moment it’s going to be ripped away. Between replaying those words, and the revenge fantasies I entertained for the guy who hurt her, I don’t think I slept.

It’s a little fucked up, but I’m kind of grateful to this guy. Not that I’ll ever say this. But I would’ve never met Lexi had he not done what he’d done. And I would go through all the chaos a million times over to have her in my life.

I tap my knuckles outside the door and wait. No response. Tap again. ‘Lexi, can I come in?’

Behind the doors comes some gentle rustling, and soon a timid, ‘Ah … yep. Come in.’

I crack open the door and blink into the duskily lit room as Lexi props herself up and pulls the covers to her chin. ‘Morning. I didn’t want to wake you, but Erica and Zane are on the way. Jack also said that Marcus wants to meet with you soon.’

She digs a pinkie into the corner of her eye and yawns. ‘What time is it?’

‘9:15.’

‘What!’ She whips off the covers and hops out of bed. ‘9:15? Holy shit, how the hell did I sleep so long?’

My breath locks. Lexi. No bra, no shorts, the bottom of the T-shirt grazing a few inches below … everything. God those legs … I quickly turn my back. ‘I’ll be downstairs. I can have the housekeeper throw your clothes in the laundry if you like.’

Well, that just happened. Thank God the lights were off, because I’m not sure I could’ve fully controlled myself. We may have started The Talk. But lines are fuzzy and I cannot push her before she’s ready.

Twenty minutes later, after I fetch her gym bag from her Jeep and leave it outside her door, I’m elbow deep in flour, eggs and bacon, and my kitchen fills with a buttery, savory cloud.

‘Is Erica here yet?’ Lexi asks as she storms into the space, then freezes and glances at the counter top. ‘Yum. What do you have going on in here?’

‘Jesus Christ. Your face.’

She pours herself a cup of coffee and sits at the island. ‘What every woman wants to hear: “your face” followed by a look of disgust.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ I say, turning off the stove. But she does look terrible. Purple and red outline her half-swollen eye, her arms, her shoulders. I bite back the fierce need to find out which holding cell this guy is in so I can give him proper, crushing payback.

‘I’m kidding. It’s a little bruised and swollen, but it’s fine.’ She adds a dash of creamer to the mug. ‘What are you making? It smells amazing.’

‘I call this my nervous energy buffet.’ I set a plate in front of her and hand her a fork. ‘Protein pancakes with nuts and bananas, eggs with prosciutto and goat cheese, green juice and fruit.’

‘You did this in twenty minutes? I’m gonna take one in the face every week if this is the type of service I get.’ She grins at me, but I can’t smile. ‘You need to stop, okay? I’m fine. This is not the first time I’ve taken a hit, and it won’t be the last.’

My jaw tightens.