One Spring Night

Chapter Four

Ben led the way to the small upstairs bathroom, pointed to the built-in cupboard. "Towels in there, wash cloths, all that. The hot water takes awhile to get up here, so..." He reached into the shower, tugged the lever and released water.

"Thank you." Kara looked around, peeked into the deep shower, investigated the crisp pattern of white subway tile. "I love that the shower is about half the size of the bathroom. Oh, and a rain shower head. I just installed one of those at my house."

"You installed it yourself?"

"It took watching some videos online, but yeah. Surprised?" She turned and realized they were standing close to one another, the steady rush of water spraying behind them.

"Nope. You seem like a woman who could figure out just about anything."

"Except my car," she said with a quick gleam of light in her gray eyes.

"You gotta leave something for us men to do to impress you."

She eyed him over—the lean lines of him, the strong arms she'd spent many hours watching, the waves of thick chestnut colored hair. He was wearing a dark blue long sleeve thermal and she let herself study the way it spread across the sloping muscles of his chest.

Then she thought of having laid her head exactly there when they'd been out on the sidewalk. She'd been full of nerves then, just as she was now. But something else was taking over. Something deeper than that primal desire for another human. Something stronger than the fear she also felt—fear of that naked vulnerability.

She craved, she realized, to feel the utter strength of him.

The relief that accompanied the news of her brother, William, had loosened something inside of her. She'd clutched fear like a lifeline for so long that now, relaxing that hold gave way to riding the waves of something she hadn't been expecting. Desire. And the swell of it swamped her.

God, it had been so long since she'd felt a man, since a man had touched her.

And Ben wasn't just any man. He was someone who'd been a lighthouse for her, providing a quiet steadiness of easy, luminous smiles and unwavering routine. Not that he was aware he'd given that to her. But while her emotions had taken stormy rides, while she'd healed, he'd been there—a friendly grin, a compassionate glance, a casual conversation every now and then that wasn't based on discussing grief or surface pleasantries, neither of which were interesting to her.

Ben, she thought again. A man who was standing in front of her with tender eyes that made her want to curl into him.

And yet there was a strength she felt, a power in knowing that the man had been a steady light in her life.

She heard Mabel's words about taking risks echo through her. If a century old bank teller was reminding her to take a risk, it was time to take one.

"Beckett was wrong," she told him, her pulse rattling as she was well aware of what she was starting.

His eyebrow raised and she swallowed back the fear that followed the sweet taste of desire. Could she do this? Could she open up and allow herself to follow through on something she so deeply wanted—but had only ever been acted on in her imagination?

"Wrong about what?"

Steam from the shower hovered around them in milky puffs of clouds.

"About being better looking. You're better looking than he is."

Potent with yearnings, she hoped to God he felt even a small amount of what was pounding through her pulse. What if she was wrong about the way he looked at her? What if he was only being kind to her because she was a customer? She was a Goddamn customer and he was a business owner. She'd heard his words, but doubt still had her wondering if maybe that kiss had merely been one of pity since she'd been sobbing.

Relief grabbed hold of a few of those lashing nerves as Ben closed the distance between them.

Her breath held as his hand lifted to move her hair away from her face. Then his thumb skimmed along her jawline to her lips where he traced, slowing feeling along her skin.

She quivered, she knew. The touch was so new, so intensely potent. And something she hadn't experienced in lifetimes.

So when his lips met hers, gently pressing, her senses overwhelmed, combusting in little sparks on her skin.

He teased open her mouth and his tongue swept along hers. What had felt so far from the realm of her life only hours ago—desire, lust—now overtook her. Their breath, the exchange of it, intertwined with the steamy heat the shower provided.

And it killed him to pull back.

He didn't want to pressure her—he knew she'd been through a lot, he knew she wasn't one to rush things. Mostly, he didn't want to push her to the point where she'd disappear forever. It was a fine line, an invisible line he innately took care not to cross.

Because he couldn't lose her.

"I should let you shower," he told her, then leaned in once more, meeting her lips. But he had to leave, mostly because he wasn't going to be able to stop himself if he kept going; he was fast approaching the blazing point of no return. Physically—sure, it would hurt like a damn beast—but since the day he'd met her, hints of her had whispered through him. And it would burn deep to hear her stop him now.

Kara's gray eyes that were surrounded by a dark spray of lashes, seared into him, imprinting the lust.

God, he wanted her.

He dragged a hand through his hair, blew out a breath, attempting to bring his brain back to working order. "I'll grab some clothes from Abigail's closet and set them outside the door."

Kara nodded then watched, he knew, as he walked away.

It was safe to say he was scorched to his core. He'd gotten used to reining in his desire around her. To let it loose now, he was afraid it would be too strong, too much.

She was the most stunning woman he'd ever met—and he desperately didn't want to hurt her.

He heard the door latch behind him and he kept on, sucking in another hearty breath.

Then he heard the door open.

"Hey Ben?"

He glanced back to where Kara stood in the doorway surrounded by silvery mists.

"Join me?"