Leigh opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, still supporting his weight as though he didn’t want to crush her, even now. She slid her hand up his side and back down again before loosening her legs.

He rolled onto his back and dropped his forearm over his eyes, and she watched him, heart hammering. He turned to look at her, those dark eyes intense. Then he rolled off the bed and stepped into the bathroom.

Leigh gazed up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. Her body felt lax and utterly immobilized. She didn’t want to move a muscle, or even try. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way.

Brandon came back and stood over her for a moment, and she caught the heat in his eyes as his gaze roamed over her.

She turned onto her side as he stretched out on the bed. His skin was warm and slick, and not just from rain anymore. Resting her fingers against his chest, she felt his heart pounding steadily. His torso was a work of art—his entire body—and she trailed her fingertip over his chest. She glanced up. He was watching her with a look she couldn’t read, and she felt a rush of self-consciousness. She’d never expected to be in Brandon’s bed tonight, with her clothes strewn all over his apartment.

She scooted closer and tucked her head against his chest, hopefully cutting off conversation. She didn’t want to talk now. She just wanted to lie here and be. Her body felt warm and glowy, and the rain thrummed outside the window. Leigh closed her eyes. It was a good moment, the first one she’d had with anyone in a long time, and she didn’t want to ruin it by talking.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Leigh crept down the dark hallway, feeling her way along the wall without making a sound. She reached the living room, where bands of gray light seeped through the gaps in the blinds.

Pausing in the foyer, she squeezed her eyes shut as the vicious headache oozed over her skull. She took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she moved through the dimness to the pile of discarded clothes. With a furtive look over her shoulder, she collected her things. Her bra was dry, but her sweater was still damp, and her head throbbed as she pulled everything on. Glancing down the hall again, her stomach filled with nerves and she felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house. She grabbed her purse off the bar, and her gaze landed on a square yellow notepad by a stack of mail.