Page 40 of The Stranger

My mind races as I try to think of an alternate plan. I’ve saved a decent amount of money over the past few weeks … well, enough to get me a hotel room for the next couple of nights. We both have work in the morning and I feel terrible keeping him up.

When I stand, his frown lines deepen. “Where are you going?”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Spencer, but I think it’s best if I leave.”

“Leave,” he growls, and I don’t miss the slight panic that just flashed through his eyes. “And go where? Back to that place … with them? I don’t think so.”

“I have a little money saved; I can stay at a hotel.”

“Not when I have a perfectly suitable room you can stay in for free.”

“I never should’ve gotten you involved in this mess … it was selfish of me.”

“You didn’t all of a sudden become selfish, Delilah. What you became was harder to manipulate … don’t confuse yourself between the two. Now sit.”

“I …”

He gives me a look so stern that I immediately comply. “Good girl.”

Turning, he flicks on the tap and wets a face washer. My heart is thumping in my chest when he wrings out the excess water and squats down in front of me. I’ve never been able to observe him this closely before, and I’m now just noticing the specks of gold that surround the irises of his rich chocolate-brown eyes. They shine with warmth like a cosy firelight. It’s scary how comfortable I’ve become with this man, considering I didn’t even know him two weeks ago.

“This might sting a bit,” he says, bringing the warm cloth to the side of my mouth. His movements are so soft, so gentle, and a complete contrast to the fierce and unyielding man I’ve come to know.

When he pulls the cloth away, his face remains mere inches from my own. His gaze flickers from my lips to lock with my eyes. I can feel his hot breath as it skates acrossmy skin, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still as the air around us crackles. I have an overwhelming compulsion to lean forward, closing the distance between us, so I can place my lips on his, just like he did with me earlier tonight.

Before I can gain the courage to do just that, the moment is broken when he abruptly stands. Spencer clears his throat as he gives me his back again and tosses the cloth into the sink.

The upper part of his body leans in towards the mirror as his hands reach out to grasp the edges of the countertop. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” He looks so big, so formidable and I can see the muscles in his back ripple underneath his formfitting shirt. His grip on the marble is tight because his knuckles are now turning white. Is he bracing himself for my explanation?

“I fought with my sister,” I answer.

“I gathered that. Did it have anything to do with our kiss?”

I feel my cheeks heat. “Maybe … and me staying here last night probably didn’t help. When I walked through the front door, she launched her attack.”

“Hmm,” he hums in the back of his throat. “I apologise, Delilah. I’m sorry that my actions have made this situation worse for you.”

“Hah,” I scoff. “My situation was already dire before you entered the picture.”

“What was your parents’ take on this fight?”

I swallow down the lump that has now returned to my throat. “They took Abigail’s side, of course.”

“Of course they did,” he sneers.

I blow out a puff of air as my eyes travel down the length of Spencer’s spine, pausing when they reach theround, tight buns of his backside. I might be in the middle of a crisis, but I can still take a moment to appreciate how well he fills out those black trousers he’s wearing.

When I hear a throat clear, my eyes snap up to the mirror where I find him watching me.Shit.My gaze quickly shifts to the far wall as I stand. “It’s late, and we both have work in the morning.”

He spins around to face me, and I’m thankful for the few feet that’s now between us. “I need to put some antiseptic on that cut first.”

I hold out my hand. “I can do it. I’m going to have a shower first … if that’s okay.”

He reaches for the bottle and cotton balls he placed on the countertop earlier. “Of course.” I try not to react to the shiver that shoots up my arm when our fingers brush.

“Thank you … umm … for everything, Spencer.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Delilah.”