Once she was clean, he dabbed the cut above her eye with a cotton swab covered in ointment.
“How do you know how to do this?” she asked.
His eyes flicked to hers. They were so close that he could lean in and kiss her. “Hmm? Oh, I’ve certainly been knocked around before. It’s no big deal. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”
She frowned. “Knocked around? Because your job is dangerous?”
He recapped the ointment and considered her question. “Yes, sometimes. Other times not. But actually I was thinking about my teen years. I was a bit of a trouble maker. My parents sent me to military school my last two years of high school.”
“Oh.” Her eyes were big and inquisitive, as if she wanted to ask more, but instead she looked down at her hands. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-seven,” he answered. Too old for you.
His eyes caught their reflection in the mirror and the serious expression in his features distracted him. His brow was knotted in concentration, and his mouth a tight line. He did his best to relax the tense set of his shoulders, knowing he needed to be calm if he wanted Savannah to relax too.
A few heartbeats later she visibly relaxed, her breathing smoothing out, and her hands uncurling in her lap. Her features were entirely feminine, from her long dark hair that curled at the ends, to her almond-shaped eyes fringed in dark lashes, to her smooth, soft skin. Savannah was a natural beauty.
Catching his own reflection in the mirror, Cole, in contrast, was all male. His jaw was shadowed in dark stubble and his body lean and sculpted with muscle, which he worked hard to maintain. Compared to Savannah, he was hard plains and jagged edges, all except for his full sensuous mouth. More than one ex-girlfriend had complimented his lips, and what he could do with his mouth. When he was with a woman, he used every weapon in his seduction arsenal — his mouth, tongue, hands, even his strength—often liking the feel of power, the crude masculinity of picking up a woman and holding her weight as he f**ked her. It had been several months though since he’d taken a lover, and his body was growing restless with pent-up desire.
Once Savannah was cleaned up, Cole stepped back and met her eyes. They were still swimming with tears and her breathing was little more than shallow gasps for air. He could tell that the slightest thing would set her off again. Shit. So much for relaxing.
Savannah was an absolute mess. To be expected. She’d probably been through hell and back these past several days, and getting bruised up earlier had sent her over the edge. A girl like Savannah, who’d grown up so sheltered with such a strange upbringing, had no defenses to protect herself from the pure chaos this world dished up. He knew from the FBI files that the women and children were rarely seen outside the compound.
Cole, on the other hand, was hardened, bitter, and certainly not delusional enough to believe in happily-ever-after. He’d seen too much working for the Bureau the past six years, and experienced pain firsthand when his parents were hit and killed by a meth addict who was drunk and high at the time of the accident. Still, he felt for Savannah, felt sorry for her in a way. She wasn’t the type to fare well on her own, that was obvious.
He lifted her chin and rubbed a slow circle against her jaw. “I’ve got you. It’s going to okay.”
She gave a heavy nod and somber eyes met his. “So what happens now?”
Cole could read the apprehension on her face. The honest truth was, he didn’t know what happened next, but he knew one thing was certain; he wasn’t taking her back to that house. They both needed some sleep, and they would figure the rest out later. “Now we sleep. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
He helped her from the counter, and led her through the condo, giving her a brief tour. He guided Savannah to the living room and encouraged her to sit on the sofa. He was about to turn and head for the kitchen to get her some water and pain reliever, but she silently took his hand and held it in her own, her eyes pleading with him to stay.
He sat down beside her and she wordlessly lowered her head to rest against his thigh, nestling herself into him. Cole couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He dared not move with her head resting on his denim clad thigh. She bent her legs up onto the couch beside her, curling into the fetal position, and closed her eyes. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and settled for fisting one beside him, and placed the other carefully on Savannah’s shoulder. He let her sleep, unwilling to rustle her from the spot she’d claimed.
When he woke a short time later, it took him a moment to realize who the warm body pressed against him belonged to. Savannah. He lifted his head and surveyed his body, and in turn hers. They had shifted in sleep so that he was stretched out on his back, and she was lying half on him, and half on the couch. Savannah woke when he moved and their eyes flicked to each other’s. He mumbled an apology and disentangled himself from her grip.
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. He’d never felt so out of place in his own house. The rumble of Savannah’s stomach made him smile and broke some of the tension. She clapped a hand over her belly. “Are you hungry?” He chuckled.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Come on. Let’s see what we can rustle up in the kitchen.” He led her into the large kitchen at the front of his condo. “I have to warn you though, I don’t cook.”
“I do.” Her hand on his forearm stopped him, and she motioned for him to take a seat at a stool tucked under the kitchen island. “Let me.”