Unforgettable by Joan Johnston

Author:Joan Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hero, contemporary romance, wounded hero, bitter creek, benedict brothers, joan johnston
Publisher: Joan Johnston

Chapter Thirteen

Lydia claimed the bathroom first. She debated whether to lock the door, since Joe was dressing in her room as well, but in the end, decided against it. “He wouldn’t dare,” she muttered as she clipped her hair up off her neck. She stripped herself bare, then stepped into the steaming shower. A moment later she heard the bathroom door open and peeked around the shower curtain to find Joe standing at the sink wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.

She angled the white cloth curtain to cover her naked body, stuck her head out, and stated the obvious. “I’m in here.”

“It’ll save time if I shave while you shower,” he said as he picked up the electric razor she’d provided, plugged it in, and turned it on.

Lydia stared in disbelief for a moment, then said, “I prefer to shower alone.”

“You are in the shower alone,” he pointed out. “I’m standing out here in front of the sink. But I’d be happy to join you.”

When Joe turned off the razor and took a step toward her, Lydia dropped the shower curtain back into place with a throaty grr-r-r of frustration. She grabbed a washcloth and the small, fragrant bar of soap and began viciously soaping the wet cloth. She thought she heard Joe chuckle before the annoying buzz of the electric razor began again.

Lydia realized she was going to have to wait for Joe to finish shaving and leave the bathroom before she could get out, so she took her time, soaping every inch of herself from top to bottom. She was still covered with suds when the buzz abruptly stopped.

“If you’re done, you can leave,” she called out to him.

A moment later, the shower curtain was shoved back and Joe—naked as a jaybird—joined her.

Lydia grabbed the curtain and covered herself, flustered and furious. “Get out! Go!”

“I’m already wet. Might as well get clean.”

She gaped at him, which was when she realized that, for the first time since she’d met him, she could see the contours of his face. He’d left only a day’s worth of stubble, just enough to shadow his jaw and make him look uncivilized. Dangerous. Like the rogue he was.

Her eyes slid down to his broad, muscular chest, which possessed a V of dark curls, and followed the trail of the jagged scar that ran at an angle from his collarbone, across a six-pack of abs, all the way to his navel. Lydia resisted the strong urge to touch.

Joe eased the washcloth from her hand, snatched the soap from the ceramic dish, sniffed it, scrunched up his nose at the smell, then began making a lather. “Faster if we do this together.”

Lydia recovered her senses and snarled, “I can’t believe you have the gall to—”

“By the way,” he said with a grin. “I can see your fanny. Very nice.”

Lydia yelped and grabbed more of the curtain in an attempt to conceal her backside. She heard Joe gasp and realized she’d inadvertently exposed a pink nipple.

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