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incredibly exposed.
    He raised a hand to trail his fingers down her cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he blinked and dropped his hand.
    He turned away from her, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor, leaving only black boxer briefs. She reluctantly averted her eyes, exhaling heavily when he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed before stripping the rest of the way.
    Relief or disappointment?
    The water started running and steam poured over the top of the curtain.
    Don’t be ridiculous.
If there was ever a worse time to have feelings like these, she couldn’t picture it.
    She looked in the mirror and was greeted by dark circles under her eyes and a hollowness she didn’t remember. Had they always been that way?
    Her life had sure changed in the last few hours. Miraculously, she’d escaped with only minor scrapes and bruises. Noticing the stains and grime all over her skin, she turned on the water in the sink and splashed it on her arms. The water going down the drain was tinged with pinkish-red.
    “Oh, God.”
    She looked at her reflection in the mirror again, and she realized she was staring into the face of a murderer.

    Knox tilted his face up toward the showerhead, letting the hot water cascade over him. He couldn’t remember the last time his body had taken such abuse. He hoped they’d get a decent night’s rest before the next disaster struck.
    He heard a thud from the other side of the curtain and frowned. Then he heard Natalie gasping.
    Quickly pulling aside the curtain and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist, he found her sitting on the closed toilet with her head between her knees, desperately trying to suck in air.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    She lifted her head up, panic in her eyes. “I can’t . . . I . . .”
    He pulled her to her feet and yanked her shirt over her head, then flicked open the button on her jeans and slid those down.
    She squeezed her eyes shut, and he lifted her over the tub’s rim and into the shower spray with him, holding her tight against his chest.
    Of course she wasn’t okay.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she wasn’t accustomed to violence, and she’d just been forced to kill a man. Hell, he’d witnessed deadly violence on the regular, but he’d never done it himself.
    He would have done it for her, though. He cursed himself for not being faster, for not anticipating that fucker’s moves. It should’ve been him, not her.
    As she clung to him, her breathing started to slow. He ran his hand over her hair and put his lips to her temple.
    He grabbed the soap and ran it over her back in lazy circles, hesitating when he came to her bra strap. She reached back to unclip it, letting it slide to the ground, and he bit back a groan as her breasts pressed up against his chest.
    “Hold me,” she whispered.
    As if anyone or anything could pry me away from her.
    Her fingers dug into the flesh of his back as if she were clinging to the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life.
    And she probably was. She’d crossed a line earlier tonight that there was no going back from.
    “Let’s get you clean,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”
    He wasn’t able to take away the memory that would haunt her, but at least he could get rid of the physical reminders.
    She nodded and he knelt to wash her calves, kneading and massaging her muscles as he covered her soft skin with suds. He worked his way up her thighs, and she put her hands on his shoulders for balance.
    As he ran his hand along her inner thigh, she inhaled sharply and swayed against him.
    All that separated his mouth from her core was the thin fabric layer of her panties. How easy would it be to shove those aside and taste her? Too easy. She’d probably let him, but she might not forgive him. When they were together—and they would be—he wanted her to want him and not be in the throes of