“My hand?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. Your hand. That’s all.” She swallowed. “I know it’s weird. You can say no.”
Sam’s heart lurched at the request. She was damaged; he could see that from afar—a whole parade of red flags. But ghosts? He understood ghosts. He understood beasts and nightmares and the strength of will it took to fight them off, night after night.
“You’re not going to try to make a pass at me, are you?” he asked.
She smiled.
“Lie on your side and give me a little space,” he said. Eve turned on her side and bent her knees slightly, giving Sam a place to sit. He sat down next to her pillow and took her hand in his.
Her fingers were work roughened and cool to the touch. When the sweet jasmine scent of her hair filled his nose, he shifted his hips, hoping to calm the erection rising in his pants.
“How’s that?” he asked quietly.
“Good.” She closed her eyes. “Strangers don’t usually do things like this, do they?”
“No. Most strangers, at least.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Underneath his arm, he felt her heartbeat slow down a little bit at a time, and as though it were as natural as breathing, she fell asleep.
****
Sam’s raging hard-on was back. With a groan, he buried his head in the pillows to hide his face from the bright sunlight streaming in. He hadn’t drawn the curtains last night and now his apartment was lit from all directions by the spotlight of the morning sun.
Eve was up. He could hear her in the bathroom taking a shower. She turned off the water and after a few minutes, came out, a towel wrapped around her hair. She was wearing a black T-shirt and faded black jeans.
“Good morning.” She eyed him warily, her bottle- green eyes almost glowing in the daylight.
He propped himself up in bed and put a pillow on his lap, trying to smother his morning wood. “Ohayo gozaimasu,” he said.
“Japanese. Nice. Hamigakiko?” She made a tooth brushing motion. “Could I trouble you for some toothpaste?”
“Medicine cabinet.”
“Domo arigato,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to pick up some of my own.”
He watched as she walked back to the bathroom. Her tight black jeans hugged the curves of her hips and the round jut of her heart-shaped ass. He swallowed hard and checked under the pillow on his lap. Half- staff. Not bad. He got up and followed her into the tiny bathroom, reaching for his own toothbrush. She put toothpaste on his without saying a word and they brushed together.
“All clean.” She smiled, showing him her teeth. The bottom row was slightly crooked. Her slightly pointed incisors were sexy as hell.
“How do you feel?” He glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was an unholy mess, and next to her fresh-faced smile, he looked like a worn-out old man.
“Sore and a little worn down but pretty good.” She took the towel off her head and rubbed her inky black hair. “I want to thank you…for last night.”
“Don’t mention it.” He splashed some water on his face and wiped it. “How did you sleep, once the nightmares went away?”
She looked at him in the mirror as he looked at her. “It was strange. I have those nightmares every night. But…when you took my hand, I fell asleep right away, and I didn’t dream at all.”
“I have that effect on people. I tend to kill their dreams.”
She frowned at him. “Very funny.” She quieted. “Thank you, Sam. I haven’t slept that well in weeks.”
He turned around. The bathroom was tiny and she was almost close enough to touch him.
She tipped her head back and looked up at him. Her eyes were mesmerizing, green as new grass, big and almond- shaped with dark, heavy lashes. When she licked her lips, her tiny tongue wet the pink dip in her lower lip. The blood surged hotly through Sam’s body.
“So…what do we do now?” she asked.
****
Time slowed down.
Up close, Sam’s eyes were disconcertingly beautiful. One blue and one brown, they bore into her, piercing her defenses so efficiently she had to drop her gaze to keep her balance.
But then there was more to see. The superhero cleft in his chin. His chest, packed tight with muscles that slid back and forth under his skin as he leaned back against the sink. His tiny, light-brown nipples and soft, dark chest hair made her fingers twitch with longing.
So she dropped her gaze lower. Thin cotton pajama pants barely concealed the bounty a generous universe had bestowed upon Sam Lamont. Heat slid down her body, making her belly tingle and her legs tremble beneath her. She snapped her head back up. With nowhere else to look, she looked him directly in the eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
They were standing so close together, she could feel his soft exhalations on her cheeks. He smelled amazing—Irish Spring, laundry detergent, and, underneath it all, a clean, spicy musk that was the scent of his own body. He pursed his lips. Her cheeks flared with heat, and for one depraved moment, she imagined throwing her arms around him and kissing those full, perfect lips.