Five Days Grace Page 9

  And wasn't this a lovely conversation to be having?

  "Okay." She was quiet for a second, then said, "Well, still, I don't think that constitutes really trying. Do you?"

  "I, uhh... guess we could try harder," he said, then instantly backtracked. "Me, I mean. I guess... I could try harder. One day. With someone." Maybe. When he worked up his nerve and was ready for the humiliation that could come with that. Why not? What did he have to lose except a little pride?

  "So, a shower with the dog doesn't sound like a terrible idea, then."

  She said it with such sincerity he wondered if she'd actually been here over the last few minutes they'd spent talking about it. Maybe he'd just lost it at the mere idea of her being on the other side of the bathroom door all naked and wet and soapy—sans dog. Maybe it had been too much for him, and the whole conversation had been some absurd fantasy gone wrong. Because in any decent fantasy, he'd be naked, in the shower with her and hard as hell by now.

  So it was a lousy fantasy at best.

  Or worse, some hideous moment of reality.

  "Okay, I guess I really can't tease you about this. I'm sorry. No more. Promise." She smiled sweetly, innocently. "Although, I don't have to be naked in the shower. There's nothing that says you have to naked in a shower, especially with a dog. I can wear my underwear. It'll be like I have a bathing suit on."

  No, really, it wouldn't.

  He doubted he could explain that to her, either, but a pretty little bra and panties, especially soaking wet, was just not the same in a guy's head as a bathing suit. It was somehow way sexier. Maybe it was a guy thing, but it just was.

  And even after that conversation they'd just had, she was still going to take her clothes off?

  God, help him.

  "Or a T-shirt," she suggested. "Panties and a long T-shirt. That'll cover even more of me than a bathing suit."

  Yeah.

  A wet T-shirt.

  Because no guy ever had fantasies about that, either.

  "You still look unhappy," she said, sounding puzzled by it.

  "I'm..." Dumbfounded. "How old are you, Grace?"

  "Twenty-nine."

  "Are you sure you've been loose in the world, all by yourself, for twenty-nine years? Because you really don't do something like that with a guy you don't know really well."

  "Aidan, I slept in your arms last night," she reminded him. "I trust you."

  And what could he say to that?

  I'm still a guy.

  He knew an erection wasn't what made him a man, but it sure felt like an essential part of it to him. And once again, he had to think, at this point in his life, she just had to show up? Now? Really?

  It couldn't have been six months ago? A year ago? When he'd been strong and healthy and sane? Or maybe a year from now, if he actually got his shit together by then and things were okay?

  No. She was here now.

  Merely to torment him? To show him everything he'd be missing from now on? Just an extra little kick in the teeth? Really?

  "Aidan?" She'd gotten way too close to him while he'd been lost in his thoughts, was practically nose-to-nose with him, her kind, gentle hands on his face, guiding him to look right into her eyes. "We're friends now, right? Good friends?"

  He nodded, fighting the almost blinding need to kiss her like crazy.

  "I'm really sorry if I offended you. Are we okay now? You and me?"

  "Yes," he said, because what could he say to that? That he was pissed, not at her or anything she'd said, but the condition of his own body? His own life? That it was worse than she knew, way worse, and he didn't want to tell her how bad it was, both because he didn't want to worry her and because he was still bewildered and really pissed off about how, exactly, he'd ended up in this grim, dark place?

  And because it wasn't nearly as grim with her here, and there was no way he would do anything to make her want to leave. She could even talk to him about his impotence, temporary or otherwise, if she really wanted to. That was how much he wanted her with him.

  "Okay. Good." She pulled his head down, kissed him softly on the cheek and then disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  When she came back a moment later, she was wearing a long, loose T-shirt with no bra and—he hoped—a pair of panties. The way his luck was going, he'd bet they were little, white panties, nothing overtly sexy, just girly and with a little bit of lace, maybe a tiny bow somewhere. Good-girl panties. A guy would have to work really hard to get her out of those.

  That was who she was, and those were the kind of panties she would wear. Yeah, he'd thought about that, too, because he was a guy, whether everything on his body worked or not.

  He might have made some wimpy-assed, whimpering sound. He couldn't be sure. Maybe he'd kept it all in his head, that truly pathetic sound.

  "What?" she asked.

  Okay, maybe not. He winced, shook his head.

  "Let's just try it, okay?" She walked into the bathroom, all T-shirt and tanned, toned legs, the dog trotting after her, stopping at the doorway and giving her a look. "Come on, baby. It's okay."

  In the dog went, because who wouldn't follow her anywhere, especially with her dressed like that. She looked up at Aidan as if to say, See? No problem.

  She opened up the shower door and stepped in, and that's when the dog figured out something was up. "Come on, Tink. It'll be fun."

  Tink whined a bit and looked back at Aidan, who'd stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door. Then the dog got really worried.

  "In you go, buddy," Aidan said, trying to herd him in, while the dog dodged and circled him, fussing and crying, and Grace tried to grab his collar and tug. She had to bend over to do it, and yes, Aidan was right. He caught a glimpse of little, white, lacy panties.

  A ridiculous struggle ensued. One wouldn't think a hundred pounds worth of dog could possibly evade two people so successfully in such a tiny space, but he did.

  "I think I might have to pick him up and drag him in here," she said finally.

  "No way. He has to weigh as much as you do," Aidan protested.

  "Well, you can't do it. I won't let you."

  Finally, she stood barely inside the raised lip of the shower door, and Aidan somehow managed to trap the dog right in front of her. She patted her chest and told Tink, "Up, baby. Come on."

  Bad, bad idea for the dog, but he didn't realize it at first. He rose up on his hind legs and planted his big, dirty paws on her shoulder. He was that tall. She held him there by his paws and backed up until Tink had no choice but to stumble forward into the shower, crying like crazy the whole time.

  Grace laughed outrageously, flashing Aidan a look of pure triumph and joy, as he held the door shut, all except a few inches, so he could see inside but the dog couldn't get out.

  "Okay, you got him there. Now what? You can't hold him like that the whole time," he pointed out.

  "I know. Turn on the water."

  "Grace?"

  "Hold the door just like that and turn on the water. I'll hold him like this, and you can wash his back and... whatever else you can reach. My shampoo is right there. Hurry, he's heavy."

  So he did. He turned on the water, which was warm rather than hot because she'd just gotten out of there. Tink howled and tried to get even closer to Grace. Grace gave a little yelp as the first blast of water made it past the dog and to her, and Aidan tried really hard not to look at anything but dog fur.

  He took shampoo that smelled just like Grace, soaped up his hands and started working on the dog, while doing his best to hold the shower door halfway closed with his knee. Of course, he got soaked himself in the process.

  Grace was trying to reassure the dog, baby-talking to him and telling him what a good boy he was, laughing as she did it, sounding happier than she had the whole time she'd been here. And damned if it wasn't worth it just for that—to hear Grace laugh like she didn't have a care in the world. If it was possible, she was even more beautiful when she laugh
ed.

  A beautiful, happy, kind-hearted woman?

  Aidan hadn't been sure such a thing existed, but here she was, in the shower with him and nearly staggering under the weight of a giant dog. She had to be completely soaked, but thank goodness, the dog blocked most of Aidan's view of her. He worked as fast as he could, now trying to get the soap off the dog's back. Then it was time to do his belly. But if it wasn't pressed right up against a dripping-wet Grace, it was close, really close.

  "Just do it," Grace said, seeing him hesitate. "I can't hold him much longer."

  So he soaped up his hands again and slid them around the dog, between dog fur and wet, gorgeous woman in a soaked T-shirt and good-girl panties.

  The dog squirmed, still trying to get away. There was some room between him and Grace, but not much. Aidan felt the back of his hands brush past her breasts more than once, her belly, her thighs. At least, they had the dog between most of him and her. He tried hard to concentrate on nothing but the dog.

  "Okay, I did everything I could. You're going to have to turn around with him so we can rinse his belly."

  "Oh. Okay."

  She did a little shuffle step around in a circle, until her back was pressed against the wall where the showerhead was, so the water missed her and blasted the front of the dog. He howled even louder and struggled more.

  Grace turned her head to the side, toward Aidan, and he saw sheer joy on her face, water dripping off her, the T-shirt plastered to her. She looked like what could only be described as a wet-T-shirt dream, those legs, those perfect, tanned, toned legs, a flat belly and her breasts, her nipples, full and perfectly outlined by the wet cotton.

  He almost loved the damned dog in that moment, for being a giant mess and making that picture he now had of Grace possible, and for her laughter.

  "I think that's as clean as we can get him," Aidan said. "Give me a second to grab a towel to wrap around him."

  He moved quickly, got the towel ready and opened the shower door. Tink stumbled out with a big, whiny cry. Aidan barely managed to wrap a towel around the dog before he shook himself all over the damned bathroom, not that there was much left that was dry at that point. Aidan toweled off the beast, then spread the towel on the wet floor. By then, Grace was in the shower all alone, shower door closed, thank goodness.

  "I'm going to stay in here and rinse off again really quick," she said, sounding tentative for the first time since they all got in the shower together.

  "Okay," Aidan said, as the dog pawed at the bathroom door and cried, wanting out. "The dog and I are leaving the room, Grace."

  Tink bounded out, still crying and mad over the shower, shooting Aidan looks that said, What did you do to me? And why? Why would you do that? Aidan thought, You? You have no idea what that was like for me.

  He grabbed a dry towel from the closet for himself, and then realized Grace would need one, too. He opened the bathroom door just wide enough to slip the towel through, telling her, "Dry towel on the vanity for you."

  Then, finally, it was done. He'd survived.

  He toweled off his hair and his face, not that it really helped. He was drenched, every bit of him. But the image of Grace, smiling at him and laughing, wet T-shirt and long, pretty legs, was burned into his brain. He'd never get it out. He doubted he'd ever want to.

  What he did want to do was strip off his clothes and walk back into the shower to join her. For a moment, he forgot all about whether he could get it up, then realized he didn't have anything resembling an erection. No doubt, that was a very bad sign considering what had just happened. But he could still kiss her, have his hands all over her, and maybe that would be enough for him for the moment. Maybe not for her, but he could make her feel really good. He was certain of that.

  Of course, he had no right. She was so vulnerable, and his brother's friend's little sister, no doubt a good, good girl, who'd given him an incredible night just by sleeping in his arms.

  So he didn't do it.

  He didn't go in there.

  He must be some kind of damned saint.

  Chapter 8

  Grace knew she was just a little bit crazy at this point in her life. She was keeping secrets from her family and from Luc's, and she was so sad, mad and confused, and trying so hard to figure things out, to make sense of all of it—and failing miserably. Her emotions were all over the place at times, veering wildly from wanting to take some kind of action to get out of this awful place, and wanting to just sit and hide and cry.

  Now she could be impulsive, too, which so wasn't like her. But she'd had a lifetime of what she considered careful living, and look where it had gotten her.

  So, at times now, she tried to push herself out of her comfort zone—which wasn't comfortable anyway anymore—and she did things she wouldn't have done just a year ago.

  Like curling up on Aidan's lap, letting him wrap those wonderful arms of his around her and sleeping—just sleeping—with him the night before. Because she'd wanted that, wanted it so bad, and why deny herself that kind of simple comfort when it was offered?

  Nothing much felt comfortable to her anymore.

  This morning, he'd seemed so surprised by the idea of the two of them getting the dog clean in the shower, so convinced that she wouldn't do it. And it was a genuine conviction, not some bit of pretense to push her into doing it. He'd looked so uncomfortable, it had become something of a dare in her own mind, making her even more determined to do it. She'd wanted to see how far outside her comfort zone she could go, especially with him.

  She'd been fine with it, even when it became obvious she'd need a lot more help from Aidan than she'd thought, that he'd have to be practically in the shower, too. The back of his hands had brushed her front a few times while he tried to get Tink's belly clean, purely by accident and mostly the squirming dog's fault. It had felt... nice, teasing and fun, and just a little bit bad.

  Grace was never bad.

  But then she turned around, and the dog wasn't between her and Aidan anymore. She opened her eyes and saw her own reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and...

  Oh.

  She finally realized how little a soaking wet T-shirt covered up.

  It was more like a second skin, a very thin second skin. She hadn't known she could look like that. That sexy. Grace knew exactly what she was. She could do good-girl sexy. Girl-next-door sexy. Sweet, let-me-look-at-you-and-kiss-your-face sexy. That she knew. But in-your-face, sex-pot sexy? Bad-girl sexy? Let-me-rip-your-clothes-off-right-now-and-take-you-against-the-wall sexy? No, that wasn't Grace.

  Maybe things were different because she was happy and laughing, because of her brief, glorious escape from normal life with the dog and Aidan. Maybe it was because Aidan was so sexy himself.

  But dripping wet, in the shower, wearing her wet T-shirt, she looked like a very bad girl, something she didn't think she'd ever been in her life.

  She wondered, if she'd looked like this, acted like this, for Luc, would she have been happy? Would he have been happy and not found someone else? Because she would have tried if she'd known. She'd have tried almost anything to save her marriage. Being married, staying married was something she took very seriously. But she hadn't done this, and now her husband was gone, and instead, she'd let Aidan see her this way.

  God, what he must think of her.

  He was a virtual stranger, a kind one, but still a stranger.

  She waited until Aidan and the dog were on the other side of the closed bathroom door, and then groaned, her face flaming. She stripped off the T-shirt, wrung it out and draped it over the shower door, then did the same with her panties. Because she really didn't want to smell like a wet dog, she grabbed the soap and quickly lathered up her hands to wash herself.

  Her body felt different to her now, even beneath her own hands, when they were moving quickly and without any intent except to get clean so she could get out of here and get dressed.

  It felt... sexy.

  She had h
er eyes closed, and an image came to mind, unbidden, not of her own hands on her body, but Aidan's. As though, after they'd finished with the dog, they'd both been so turned on, they'd stripped off their clothes and proceeded to wash each other, laughing, kissing and happy as could be together.

  Grace trembled just thinking about it, all of a sudden so turned on she could hardly stand it, more turned on than she'd been since before her husband died.

  No, before that. Long before the bad times. Maybe more than ever in her life, and Aidan hadn't even touched her. Not really.

  But he'd seen her and he'd held her last night, all night long, in a way that simply reminded her she was still alive and a woman. Now, she felt not only alive but like a woman starving for a man.

  No, not just any man.

  For Aidan.

  People had told her those feelings would come back. That she'd come back to life, and her sex drive would come roaring back. She wasn't quite sure she'd believed them, but here it was. Her hands weren't moving fast anymore, and her body was warm and alive and tingling, the need she suddenly felt almost taking her breath away.

  Great. Just great.

  She wasn't sure if she wanted this part of her life back right now. Life was messy enough already, and she still had so much to do, so many things to figure out. She still felt so fragile most of the time.

  Except here during this day with Aidan. Being here felt good, fun, interesting, full of possibilities and so far away from her life and her problems, it was like escaping to another world.

  Grace shut off the water, wrung out her hair, dried off quickly and almost roughly, trying to will all those messy feelings away. But she had forgotten to bring her clothes back into the shower, so now she had to walk out that door in nothing but a towel. Determined to plow through it, she wrapped the towel firmly around herself and opened the door. Tink, still damp, looking bewildered and insulted, was waiting for her outside the door, as was Aidan, who wouldn't even look at her.