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detached lawyer mode, I ask, “Do you need anything else?” She stares at me as if she wants to say something, but simply shakes her head. I pull a washcloth and towel from the cabinet and lay them near the sink before walking out and closing the door behind me. She is in the process of lowering her panties when I open the door to add, “I’ll be right out here.” Holy. Shit. There’s a tattoo of a rose with a stem of thorns on her shoulder. I can barely keep myself from reaching out to trace the outline with my fingertips—or better yet, my tongue. My heart is thumping loudly as I close the door and lean against the wall outside. And that ass. What I wouldn’t give to squeeze it in my hands. You’re a sick bastard, Decker. She’s been through a trauma, and you’re ogling her. Once again, my dick doesn’t give a damn that he’s being a bad boy. He knows what he likes, and right now, she’s standing in my shower with soap most likely running over her firm tits and between the crevice of ... Fuck! Think of something else—like anything that doesn’t have to do with sex or vaginas.
    I’ve almost talked some sense into the monster in my pants when Rose steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body—leaving a long expanse of thigh and the curve of her breasts visible above and below the terry cloth. No, no, no! In reality, I know that she asks, “Do you have any Band-Aids?” In my mind, it’s more like, “Do you have any condoms?”
    “I—er, pardon?” I manage to get out, trying to keep my eyes focused above her head.
    I hear the confusion as she repeats her request. “Band-Aids?”
    “Oh yeah, sorry,” I mumble as I jump to action. “I’ll just get me some—I mean you, not me. I’m obviously not getting any—because I don’t need it, right?” Dear God, just shut the fuck up. Dude, you’ve seen a naked woman before. What’s the problem? You’re making an ass of yourself. She’s going to call a taxi and run as far away as she can from you.
    I walk toward the closet in the hallway where I keep my first-aid kit. She follows behind me, making my skin tingle. “Is everything all right?” she asks hesitantly.
    Giving her an embarrassed laugh, I grab the plastic kit in one hand and clasp her fingers in the other, leading her to my kitchen. I pull out a chair from the table and she sinks down onto it. Too late, I realize I should have gotten her a T-shirt or something else to wear. You’ve got this. Just imagine she’s someone else. Maybe Lia. No, that’s not gonna work. You don’t need to picture your friend’s wife in only a towel. That’s all kinds of wrong.
    I grab another chair and sit in front of her. I take an antiseptic wipe from the case and begin carefully going over her scrapes with it. Her hands and knees by far got the worst of it, and she hisses as I touch them. I find myself blowing on the injured flesh, trying to ease the burn. I’m sweating profusely by the time I’m finished, and it has nothing to do with the temperature in the house. Since the first time she touched me, every time Rose Madden was near, I’ve gone up in flames—and today is no exception. I want her so badly my teeth ache. Something about her soft, fragile look now has me in disarray. Vulnerable is not a word I would ever have used to describe her, but that’s exactly what she is tonight. As much as this new side of her entrances me, I can’t help but miss the devilish twinkle in her green eyes and the sassy pickup lines she uses so effortlessly. I find myself determined to do whatever it takes to get those things back. She’s not the kind of woman who was meant to look so defeated. The way I feel right now, I’ll fight whatever battle or war needs to be fought to save her. “What happened?” I ask softly as I begin bandaging one of her knees.”
    She’s silent for so long I don’t think she’s going to answer me when she finally says, “I’m going to work with Lia.”
    I nod