Page 33 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

Josie

D awn hesitates outside the windows, casting faint strokes of violet and gray across the sky. A slow, relentless promise of morning. Of time moving forward whether I am ready or not.

Dragging both trembling hands over my face, I grimace at the tenderness there.

Every inch of my right side burns and throbs.

Traces of damp earth lingers in my hair—a reminder I could do without.

I reach for the scrunchie on the counter and pull my hair up, adding a little distance from the night’s ghosts.

When I notice the two muddy boots beside the mattress, my heart plunges into my stomach.

Hayes is curled up and asleep on the floor, a fortress of strength crammed into the narrow space.

It’s been a while since I needed someone as completely as I need him in this moment.

I claim the sliver of floorspace beside him, tucking a pillow under his head and pulling the blanket over both of us.

I drape my arm and leg over his body and study his face in the muted light. Even in sleep, a frown etches deep between his brows. The tender skin under his eyes is puffy and his chest heaves with uneven breaths.

What did he endure to save me? It couldn’t have been easy, and I’m afraid those memories will add another layer of guilt and hurt to his already heavy load.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm, my muscles begin to unlock, bit by bit. His breathing slowly evens out, almost like he senses I’m here and draws comfort from the closeness.

I hope I give him even a fraction of the peace he gives me.

Something special has been building between us, and I want to forget this ugly interruption and keep moving forward. Enjoy the thrill of exploration and the bliss we create.

With thoughts of our happy moments coiled around my heart, I drift back to sleep.

◆◆◆

“Hi,” Hayes whispers when I wake.

I squint against the stabbing, white light pouring through the windows, and immediately squeeze them shut again. The new day feels too big, too loud.

His hand is warm on my waist. His heart beats against my folded arms. Anchoring and stabilizing. My limbs ache, but not as much as they should from sleeping on the floor. That’s when the mattress registers.

Opening one eye, I find Hayes on his side facing me—his easy, boyish grin the most beautiful morning greeting I could ask for.

“Why did you move me here when I came to you?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says simply. “I woke up when I usually do but couldn’t leave you.”

Tears stinging, I press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, and for—”

He pulls back enough to shake his head. “You don’t have to thank me. Ever.”

My heart lurches, thinking of everything he did for me. “Are you okay?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“I’m sore but fine.” I brush my hand along his cheek. “And scared you’d step back from me.”

“Why?”

“This was one more thing you have to deal with, Hayes.”

His forehead drops to rest against mine. “I can assure you that never once crossed my mind.”

I nestle closer, memorizing the feel of him.

“I’m sure you’re ready to get back on the road,” I say reluctantly, even though I want nothing more than to stay right here, wrapped up in him. “But mind if I take a shower first?”

“Of course, not. Let me know when you’re ready. ”

I don’t know how long we lie there, but realizing we can’t stay all day—no matter how amazing—I soon relent. “I’m ready.”

Crawling out of bed, he helps me sit up. When I try to take his hands and stand, a sharp pinch shoots through my shoulder. I suck in a hiss of air.

He’s there instantly, supporting me and easing me up with infinite care.

“Well, washing the dirt out of my hair just got more complicated,” I joke but find no humor in it.

His hands skim down my arms and across my back. “I’m happy to help . . . if you want. Can you wear that in the shower?”

I’m dressed in a white crop tank and pajama shorts, nothing close to the outfit I had on last night.

He took care of me. Again.

I force back new emotions bubbling up in my chest. “Yeah. That would be fine.”

While he changes into swim trunks behind me, I doodle on the box of granola bars.

I avoid the pain in my shoulder as long as I don’t raise my arm past ninety degrees.

Painting, drawing, and restroom breaks should be no problem.

It’s the basic functions of getting dressed and showering that present an inconvenience.

If the next few days of Hayes helping me with those intimate tasks doesn’t bring us closer, nothing will.

“Ready for your spa treatment?”

I nod, despite the aches pinging my body. “Since you put it that way, definitely. ”

We lumber out of the van’s side door, then he stops. “On second thought . . .” He reaches around me to open the passenger side door. “Get in.”

“Why? What about my spa appointment?”

“Still on the books. Just not here.”

Confused but trusting him with every bit of my soul, I climb into the seat while he packs up the lawn chairs. He doesn’t say a word until we’re back on the highway, heading toward Oklahoma City.

“The place where I found you . . .” His hand finds mine across the middle console. “It was near the showers.”

“Oh. Right.” A wave of nausea rises and falls. How could I forget?

“I didn’t think you’d want to go back there. Even if it’s technically safe now.”

“Thank you for that.”

His thumb strokes the back of my hand, the simplest of comforts.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go to a real spa or salon either."

“Right again.”

"So, I have an idea."

Overwhelmed by the sheer goodness in him, I blink back tears. This man. So many layers. So much heart.

After stopping by three hotels, Hayes finally confesses he’s on the hunt for a room where I can soak my sore muscles in a bath. None of the hotels we visited had a tub.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. ”

He lifts my hand to his lips, gifting me a grin before kissing my knuckles. “Same.”

◆◆◆

With brows furrowed in determination, Hayes searches his phone for another option. His focus alone sends my system swirling. I’ve never been treated like this. Had someone fight so hard for my comfort. For me.

If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

A few miles outside the city’s sprawl, he finally locates a bed and breakfast and charms the manager into lending us a room for a few hours.

I wait on the room's couch, listening to the soothing sound of running water while he moves about. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to me—how every simple kindness unravels me a little more.

And he does it again when his efforts are revealed.

Stepping inside the bathroom, I’m met with a scene right out of a novel. My own steamy romance.

The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the room. Little battery-powered tea lights flicker from every surface. He switches off the main light to let the dreamy glow take over.

“When you said bath,” I whisper, awe catching in my throat. “I didn’t expect bubbles.”

“The owner hooked me up,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just rearrange the architecture of my heart with his thoughtfulness .

“While you get in, I’ll grab your shampoo.” He backs out to give me privacy.

I undress carefully, peeling off the layers and letting them fall to the floor. The hot, sudsy water wraps around me as I lower into the tub. Nothing, other than Hayes, could feel better on my skin than this right now.

As he heard my thoughts, he appears at the threshold, eyes zeroed in on my discarded clothes. His throat bobs with a swallow before his gaze rises to the tub.

Then to me.

Time slows as his gaze lingers on my face. He seems to be balancing on the edge of a decision. One that could change everything.

“Anything else I can do?”

I nod, desire blooming everywhere the water touches. “You could join me.”

He swallows again, the motion slower and tighter in his throat this time. “I’d do anything for you, Josie. Literally, anything you asked. But are you sure? Once we erase that line . . . there’s no drawing it back in.”

“That’s one thing I’ll never doodle. Get in.”

His expression shifts to something primal yet infinitely tender. With his eyes on mine, he kicks off his boots and socks. Then, his fingers catch the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head in one smooth motion.

The artwork that is Hayes bare—broad shoulders, sculpted lines, the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband—will never cease to amaze me .

He strolls toward me, so casual yet intentional and intimately male I forget to breathe. He pauses by the tub, chest rising and falling fast.

“Tell me to stop, Josie. No hard feelings.”

Folding my legs, I slide forward to make room for him, my gaze roaming over every part of him I’ve wanted to trace with my lips since the first time he touched me.

The water tilts with his added weight and again when his hands wrap around my waist to draw me close. I melt into the curve of his body, my head finding its home on his shoulder.

His frantic heartbeat thrums against my back, matching the rhythm of my own, as he adjusts the thick foam over me. Even now, he's thinking about protecting me, but I need him to remember he's doing nothing wrong.

“What did Jordan say when you called him?”

“He’s all in,” he whispers. “And offended we questioned him.”

My fingers trail along the hem of his shorts, teasing the edge without daring to pass it. He kept them on to be respectful and stay in control. He doesn’t want to hurt me.

I wish he could see he’s the safest thing I’ve ever known.

“No more worrying about him,” I breathe, my fingers still tracing lazy circles on his thigh.

“None.” His breath brushes my temple. “I’ve dreamed about having you like this.”

“You don’t have to dream anymore. Touch me, Hayes.”

Calloused palms brush feather-light over my stomach and up my sides, sending sparks skipping across my skin. His thumbs brush over the outer curve of my breasts, hesitant but worshipful, and I arch into his touch, mind blocking out everything else.

Warm lips find my neck, and I tilt my head to give him more.

He maps my skin with his hands, learning every inch of my body he can reach with devastating tenderness. It’s everything and not nearly enough at the same time.

I reach back with my good arm, fingers threading through his hair to pull him to me.

The kiss is hesitant at first. Then, his lips part, stealing every thought from my mind except my need to have all of him. I twist in his arms, water sloshing over the edge of the tub as I straddle him. His eyes dance between mine, follow my neckline down to my breasts, then back up again.

After all that’s happened, he still asks for permission.

Cradling his face in my hands, I give it with another kiss, wilder and deeper than the last to show him how easily he sets my entire body on fire..

He groans into my mouth, hands gripping my hips like he’s afraid he might lose control. He’s restraining himself again for me. Always for me.

It’s the last thing I want.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he says, his voice both raw and sensual.

“Then, don’t. Don’t hold back, Hayes.”

“I—Damn, Josie. ”

“If you’re holding back because you think I need you to . . . please don’t. Yesterday reminded me how short life can be. You make me feel alive.”

“Josie,” he rasps again.

“If you’re not ready, though, I’ll wait however long you need. Just know, you don’t have to protect me here. I’m not broken.”

But something inside him breaks instead.

He consumes me with a deep and desperate kiss, altering the rotation of my world. It’s either a surrender or a distraction, I can’t tell which until he lifts us out of the water, scattering bubbles over the rim.

He stomps on the drain plug and flicks on the shower. The water’s probably cold, but I can’t feel anything except where my body connects with his.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

Setting me on my feet, he yanks the curtain closed, his lips already on my neck. “Not holding back.”

◆◆◆

Somehow, through sheer determination, we managed to wash my hair before drying off. Every graze of his fingers, every brush of his body against mine under the streaming water, left me trembling and begging for more.

Thanks to Hayes, I’ll never be able to think about a loofa the same way ever again. I might have to buy that one from the B&B since it just surpassed my camera as my new favorite toy .

Oh, no . My camera.

“Do you think we will have time to get the pictures printed in Albuquerque?” I ask from my comfy spot in the bed we warmed together.

“We’ll make time." He looks unfairly good in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips while he searches through his bag.

He promised to only wear clothes long enough to accept the tray of food from the staff. Then, he’s mine again. Completely.

Little does he know, I have zero intention of letting him out of this bed for a long, long while.

No matter how much I get of him, I’ll always want more.