The world tilted as Keifer's hand shot out. He caught her by the waist just as her balance gave way, but his own momentum, combined with the slickness of the rug, sent them both reeling backward.
They hit the mattress with a soft thud.
The air was knocked out of Jay as she landed squarely on top of him.
Her face pressed into the hot, smooth expanse of his bare chest, the scent of him-now mixed with the steam of her shower-filling her senses.
Her wet hair fell forward like a dark curtain, draping over his face and shoulders, pinning them together in a private, damp sanctuary.
Both of them were flushed a deep, frantic red. The heat between their bodies was enough to rival the morning sun.
As Jay instinctively tried to pull her head up to apologize, she felt Keifer's grip on her waist change.
It wasn't just a save anymore. His fingers dug into the soft fabric of the towel, his grip tightening as he pulled her slightly closer, refusing to let her climb away.
Jay's breath hitched. She looked up, and suddenly, there was nowhere to hide.
She was staring directly into his eyes. In the daylight, Keifer's gaze was a storm of gold and brown, stripped of all his usual "grumpy" defenses.
He looked at her with a raw, aching intensity that made her soul shiver.
Slowly, almost as if drawn by a magnetic force he couldn't fight, Keifer's gaze dropped. He looked at her lips-soft, parted, and glistening with the moisture from the room.
Jay felt the world narrowing down to this single point. Her own eyes locked onto his mouth, her heart drumming a rhythm so fast it felt like a hummingbird's wings.
The polite, soft girl who always pushed him away was gone. The girl who wanted to touch him-just a little bit-was finally in control.
Neither of them spoke. The "contract," the "Stepfather," and the "manager" were a million miles away.
Without realizing it, they began to lean toward each other. The inch of space that had felt like a canyon last night was disappearing, shrinking until their breath was being shared.
Jay's hand, clutching the edges of her towel with white-knuckled intensity, trembled.
She felt a surge of fear, but it was drowned out by an even stronger surge of want. Her eyelashes fluttered and finally closed, her head tilting just a fraction as she waited for the collision.
Keifer's thumb traced the curve of her waist, his touch heavy and possessive. He tilted his head, his lips just a ghost's breath away from hers.
The air was electric. The moment was perfect.
They were leaning in, gravity finally winning the battle, when the door swung open with a violent creak.
"Jay-" Sophia's voice started, bright and impatient, but it died in her throat instantly.
She froze. The sight of her "grumpy" brother pinned to the bed with a towel-clad, wet-haired Jay draped over him was enough to make Sophia's brain short-circuit.
The sound of the door was like a gunshot. Jay's thoughts snapped back to reality, horror dousing the fire in her veins.
She let out a gasp and tried to recoil, to throw herself off him and hide, but as she jerked her head back-
"Ouch!"
The sharp cry left her lips as she was yanked forward again.
Her long, wet strands of hair had tangled themselves firmly around the silver pendant Keifer wore-the one that usually sat hidden against his skin.
She was tethered to him, her face pulled back down to within inches of his.
Sophia's eyes went wide as she realized she had walked into a literal movie scene. "Shit! Sorry! I'm gone! I was never here!" she scrambled, slamming the door shut so hard the walls vibrated.
The sound of her footsteps retreating down the hall was frantic.
Jay was trapped. She had no option, no escape. She couldn't look him in the eye-the embarrassment was too heavy-so she did the only thing she could.
She pressed her burning forehead against the warm skin of his chest, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands clutching her towel for dear life.
Keifer, however, couldn't look away. His heart was hammering against her forehead like a drum.
He raised his hand, his movements slow and shaky, to free her. But as his fingers reached her neck, they froze.
He saw a stray, wet lock of hair plastered against her flushed cheek. The sight was so intimate, so raw, that it stole the last of his breath.
With a tenderness that didn't belong to the "Golden Boy" persona, he reached out and gently tucked the hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing her soft skin.
He then turned his attention to the pendant, his fingers working carefully to untangle the dark silk of her hair from the silver chain.
His touch was light, but his presence was overwhelming.
The moment the last strand fell free, Jay didn't wait.
She didn't look up. She scrambled off the bed, snatched her floral dress from the couch in one blurred motion, and bolted back toward the safety of the washroom.
The door clicked shut, and the lock turned with a definitive thwack.
Keifer was left lying on the rumpled bed, his chest heaving, his hand still hovering in the air where her hair had been.
He stared at the ceiling, his body vibrating with the aftershocks of the tension.
He was breathless, frustrated, and more alive than he had been in years.
He didn't know how he was going to survive the car ride home.