momentarily slaked, shame plowed into his stomach like a battering ram. He shouldn’t have let the situation get away from him. Whatever she was harboring on the inside was more important than his attraction to her, mind-numbing though it might be.
He rearranged himself back into his sweatpants and took a deep breath. “Why did you come over here, Erin?”
“The window in my room might as well be painted on. It doesn’t go anywhere.”
“Explain.”
She glanced toward the mirror, flinching at her reflection, before hopping off the tub and leaving the bathroom. He grabbed a towel off the rack and followed her. When he entered the living room, he felt a flare of panic at not seeing her, but breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped into the light coming in through the window.
Evidence of his release was still visible on her legs and he put a stranglehold on the surge of pleasure it gave him, seeing it on her skin. He handed her the towel, wishing he could be the one to clean her off. She stared at the towel for a beat before comprehending why he’d brought it. As she wiped her legs clean, there wasn’t a hint of embarrassment in her expression, only methodical concentration. When she’d finished, she held on to the towel and looked out the window.
“See, from here, there are twenty-two steps to the street.” Her words sounded subdued, but concise. “One step onto the fire escape, five down the first set of stairs, five down the second. One when I hop down onto the asphalt. From there, if I run at a sprint, I can be in front of the building in ten steps. There’s a security light that goes on if it senses movement, but the bulb has been taken out. It’s the first thing I did when I got to the building this afternoon.”
Connor’s chest felt like someone had lobbed a sandbag onto his chest. Dots were starting to connect, though. Escape artist. Needs to be near windows. He wasn’t ready to ponder the reason she’d developed the skill, but he had to know. It felt like his responsibility. “Your window doesn’t have a fire escape?”
Erin scoffed. “I could get out without one. No problem.” She rapped on the windowpane with her knuckles. “There’s a closed-in area below my window, only accessible through a basement door. Fifteen-foot-high cinder-block walls. I could potentially get over them, but it would kill my timing. And I wouldn’t have any visibility on the other side. It’s a trap.”
It was unbelievable, really. The way she appeared so self-possessed while calmly discussing escape routes. So unlike the unusual behavior he’d already come to associate with her. It made something inside him hurt. “Does someone want to trap you, Erin?”
“Yes,” she whispered, then shook herself. “Don’t ask me that again.”
It took Connor several moments to calm the rage. Was her need to have a way out associated with her aversion to being touched? He’d known there had to be a reason she didn’t like hands on her, but now that he drew closer to an explanation, he was afraid to know the whole story. Afraid to have his depravity confirmed. God, what he’d just done in front of this girl couldn’t be excused. Nor could the desire to do it again. To do whatever she’d allow him to do.
“I’m going to sleep here tonight.” She sat down on the floor, just beneath the window. “I’ll figure out something tomorrow…a different place to stay. This won’t work.”
No. He almost shouted the word. Maybe he’d known her less than a full day, but no way was he letting her stay somewhere he couldn’t watch her. Where he couldn’t keep her protected. Especially now that she’d admitted someone wanted to trap her. “Stand up, Erin,” he said more sharply than intended. “You sleep in my room tonight and I’ll take the spare. We’ll switch apartments in the morning.”
She came to her feet slowly. “You would do that?”
“Of course I would.”
Her smile turned him inside out. She pushed up on her toes and laid a soft kiss on his lips. “Good night, baby.”
She walked away, leaving him holding his breath and unable to stop himself from watching her through his bedroom doorway as she nestled like a kitten into his sheets. After some consideration, he dropped down onto the couch—just in case she decided to go for another midnight ramble—wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Because he knew with irrevocable certainty