She smiled, and it turned the hot anger in my blood to soothing warmth. One I wished I could inject in her to stop her from shaking. I rubbed my hands up and down her arms. “Hey,” I said, glancing over my shoulder as I tugged her from the bed. “You want to take a hot shower?”

Her eyes flew to mine, the swarm of emotions from before switching to one: full-on desire.

My mouth dropped, and I cleared my throat. “No,” I said before cringing. “I mean, yes, but…not what I meant.” The words tangled in my mouth. “I meant for you. To get warm? To take the edge off the shock.”

A small smile shaped her lips as she stared up at me. “I don’t really want to go home right now,” she admitted.

“I don’t want you to, either.” I wanted her with me, where I could draw her from herself, from overanalyzing the situation and somehow letting that jerk make her feel guilty when she was so far from blame.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, then glanced down. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

“I’ll find something,” I said, opening the door to the bathroom that connected to my bedroom. I locked the other door, just in case Tessa wandered this way. I leaned over the tub, twisting the handle in the secret-code way in order to get it to not scald her. “Don’t touch that,” I said, grinning. “Any movement and you’ll either get burned or iced.”

“Noted,” she said, folding her arms around herself.

“Okay,” I said, grabbing a clean towel from the cabinet, thankful Mom had stocked it before she and Dad had left for a weekend business trip. “I’ll just…be out here.” I spun on my heels, hating how damn heavy they felt. Split in two: wanting to stay and knowing I needed to go.

“Dean?” she said as I stepped out the door.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said. “For being there. Here.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “DC, remember?”

“Always.”

I nodded and shut the door behind me before that hot, churning want inside me convinced me to stay.

After riffling through my drawers, I found an old pair of sweats and a smaller black T-shirt for Amber, which I set safely on the sink when I was certain she was in the shower and hidden by the curtain. Booking it out of there, I opened my laptop, trying like hell to distract myself.

Don’t think about her in the shower.

Don’t think about her naked in the shower.

Don’t think about her naked.

Damn. You.

It was impossible.

The girl of my dreams, my Pixie, was taking a shower not twenty feet away.

I shifted in my seat, unable to read the line of code on the screen. Another five minutes and I gave up, shutting it.