He should’ve kept on walking and pretended he hadn’t heard her. Gone back to bed. Like he’d gotten a helluva lot of sleep anyway. His mind, unable to shut off, had tormented him with every possible scenario of what could’ve happened to her out on the streets given how vulnerable she was. Vulnerable. The word screamed in his brain, telling him the periodic fantasies about her were as dangerous for her as they were for him. Nope. It would behoove him to go back to bed, make her think he hadn’t heard a word she said—back to his cold, lonely bed. He closed his eyes, sensing he would regret this and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back. I need to get some pants on. Do you want a pair to keep your legs warm?” He turned in time to catch her walking toward him down the hall. She flipped on the kitchen light and in the stark brightness, realized her flimsy tank was askew revealing part of her breast. She tugged it into place, but not before he was able to see enough to create an uncomfortable rise in his shorts.
