Amy Rench - Fallen Rogue

With great effort, she shook the morose thoughts from her mind and resumed her attention to her surroundings.

Moving down the rough hallway, the next space had a humongous bed that looked cheerfully lumpy with goose-down quilts. A little farther in, the area opened wide like a great room with a kitchen and another big flat-screen television in front of three huge rust-colored beanbag chairs. A tacky yellow and red striped couch was at an angle to the television behind a low, chunky wooden table. The place looked to be a work in progress. It wasn’t musty or dingy, just unused and unfinished.

“There’s a bathroom through there.” Rome pointed to a smaller area just to the side of the kitchen. The only room with a door. “I’ll get some towels.” She watched him move toward a far closet as she headed to the idyllic room with a shower.

And what a shower it was. It was at least as big as her whole bathroom in her little studio apartment in San Francisco. A double-headed shower in a waist-high tiled rectangle. She sighed out loud in enchanted anticipation.

She pushed the door shut, leaving it open just a crack. She peeled off her grungy T-shirt and bra and tossed them aside, then reached in to twist the spigots on each side to steamy-hot.

A knock sounded before the door opened wide. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Rome standing there with his arms full of fluffy foam green towels, his mouth agape. His blue eyes darkened to the color of midnight as they swept down her naked torso.

“Harper.” Her name was spoken with a raspy breath of regret and desire. “I am so, so sorry.” He set down the towels and a new box of bar soap on the freestanding wooden towel rack and moved to stand within a breath of her. A whisper of a touch caressed her skin as his fingertips glided gently down her back. Peering over her shoulder, she followed the trail of his hand.

She knew she shouldn’t be shocked to see the angry red marks there; after all, she’d experienced every single one. But to see them in the bright light of the gleaming white bathroom was daunting. Also a little scary that they weren’t as bad as she would have thought.

She watched him while he continued to run his fingers softly over her back. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotion. Sorrow. Shame. Compassion. Fury. And, finally, determination. Then his face cleared and his gaze snapped to hers.

“Take as long as you need,” he said quietly, turning away. He picked up the box of soap, opened it, and set the fresh bar on top of the pile of towels. “I’ll fix us something to eat.” He shut the door gently as he left.

Hot steam clouded the room while Harper removed the rest of her grubby clothes. She briefly wondered whether Rome knew just how expressive his face could be. Probably not. He was a supersecret government agent or something. They weren’t supposed to have facial expressions, right?

Stepping around the shower’s tiled wall, she was enveloped by the cascading hot spray from both showerheads. She was a tad surprised at his affinity for double-headed showers. It was a luxury she definitely wasn’t used to. But she sure wasn’t complaining.

It was absolute ecstasy.

The lavish fall of water seeped warmth into every inch of her skin, soothing and healing the plentiful aches she knew were there and some she hadn’t known existed. The pain of the last few days slowly ebbed away under the restorative tide, spiraling down the drain.

She brought the bar of soap to her nose. Spicy and clean. Just like Rome. She was surprised when a low growl came from her throat at the thought of his scent.

Shaking it aside, Harper lathered a generous froth over her entire body. The thorough cleansing stung in a few places, but it was a small price to pay for the fresh feeling it created. Invigorating, really. She ran the bar through her hair several times, watching the soapy bubble rinse down the drain, relishing the feeling of grime sliding out of the blonde mop.

After she’d scrubbed herself off, she simply let the water flow over her, enjoying the clean and tranquil sensation, trying to stamp it into her memory just in case it was a while before she’d feel it again.

Harper reluctantly turned the water off on one side, then the other. The thick steam embraced her, caressing her dripping skin as she picked up the downy towel Rome had left for her. Drying herself thoroughly, she wrapped the thick fabric around her body and opened the door.

She spied Rome standing at the stove. Moving into the kitchen, the inviting aroma of eggs invaded her senses. A small smile broke out as she moved closer, spotting a heaping pile of shredded cheddar cheese and an open package of Canadian bacon on the counter, chopped into little chunks. He was making an omelet. And it smelled like paradise. The spatula looked odd in his large hand, but he capably flipped around the pan’s steaming and crackling contents.

“That smells wonderful,” Harper purred, leaning her toweled hip against the white tiled counter.

Rome swung his head to stare at her. His intense gaze raked across her bare shoulders, then down the towel to her thighs and back up. The swirling blue gaze virtually stripped the towel right off her freshly scrubbed body. The air between them sizzled with desire. She knew the feeling. There was something inexplicably hot about a manly man cooking.

“Uh, um…” He blinked and cleared his throat. “This’ll be ready in a minute.” He shook his head and turned his attention back to the steaming pan. “I set out some clothes for you in the bedroom. We can throw yours in the washer later.” He gave her a rueful sideways glance. “Again.”

Rapping her knuckles on the counter, she nodded with a smile and walked toward the room with the big bed. Spread out on top of the comforter were a pair of well-worn gray sweatpants and a soft cotton T-shirt. The black T sported a faded green and gold Minnesota North Stars emblem on the chest that just screamed Rome. She hardly knew him, but somehow, it was right. She tossed the towel on the floor and pulled on the clothes-his clothes. The fit was large, but comfy from wear.

Harper bent to pick up the towel and saw a pair of thick, gray wool socks on the bed as well. Donning them, she relished the cozy, cushy feel as she padded to the bathroom to spread the towel on the wooden rack. She then returned to the kitchen to see Rome setting full plates on the wooden table in front of the television. He then brought out two frosty bottles of water, setting them on coasters.

Smiling at the strange thought of a man using coasters, she sank into the nearest beanbag chair and grabbed one of the steaming plates, along with one of the nearby forks. The cheesy omelet tasted even better than it looked and smelled as she took the first scrumptious bite. It simply melted in her mouth.

“Mmm.” Harper couldn’t help the moan that escaped. “Good.” She shoved another forkful into her watering mouth.

“Cooking’s kind of a hobby of mine,” Rome said through his own mouthful. “But don’t tell anyone.” He lowered his voice and gave her a mock severe look. And added a killer wink.

“My lips are sealed.” She brought her fingers up to her mouth, mimicking the turning of a lock and key. Then she frowned. “Well, they’re sealed after I finish eating.” She gave him a playful wink back and smiled at his reactive grin.

So, he cooked. Something she was admittedly lousy at. Most everyone had a hobby. She thought his would be fixing motorbikes or snowboarding. Something rough and tough. But it was also somehow fitting that a strong, confident man like him would cook. Actual food, no less, not just reheated premade stuff. His joking about keeping it a secret was for show. He had a confidence in everything he did. And he did eggs very well.