Claim - Page 67

Finally, I turned the water off and dried off. I pulled on Beau’s T-shirt, and, unsurprisingly, it swamped me.

As I padded out of the bathroom, I heard music downstairs—a loud, angry rock song—and a rapidslap, slap, slap. I headed downstairs and saw him hitting a small speed bag that was attached to the wall in a frame.

His hands, just wrapped with no gloves, moved so fast they blurred. He was smacking the small bag hard.

He must’ve gone down to the gym to use the showers because his hair was damp. He was wearing a pair of black sport shorts, with no shirt. The muscles in his back were tense. My gaze traced over his tattoos—more of those fascinating geometric shapes and swirls. There were also some scars.

I bit my lip. Beau had lived a hard life, done tough things, and it showed on his body.

“Hi,” I murmured

He kept hitting the bag, but glanced over. “Feel better?”

“A little. I don’t smell like smoke, so that’s a win.”

I sat on the couch and the leather was cool on the bare skin of my legs. I curled up, careful not to flash Beau since I had no underwear on. I’d hand washed them, and they were hanging in the bathroom to dry.

All my lovely lingerie was gone. My perfume was gone. My clothes were gone. Everything I’d owned had gone up in smoke.

I fiddled with the hem of my borrowed shirt. I was alive. No one had died. That’s what mattered. I had to remind myself of that.

I focused on Beau. He kept hitting the bag, and it was mesmerizing to watch.

But I could see the tension, the contained energy in him.

“You’re angry,” I said.

“Yes. That we didn’t catch him. That he fucking locked you up in a room in a burning house.”

There was venom in his voice.

And more.

I rose. “It’s not your fault, Beau.”

“I left you there. I knew he was in the city. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

I touched Beau’s back. “You left me with a secure lock and an alarm.”

“He nailed your door shut,” Beau bit out.

“I can’t believe I slept through that, but the boarding house is never quiet.”

“He set the fucking house on fire!” The words burst out of Beau like bullets. “I should have made you stay here. Where you were safe.” He dropped his hands, and his breath hissed in and out of him through his clenched teeth.

“Beau.” I leaned my cheek against his back. “You saved me. I’m alive because of you. No one’s taken care of me for a really long time. I’ve only had myself to depend on.” I paused. “It’s nice not to be alone.”

“Shit, Bell.” He spun and cupped my jaw. “You’re always breaking my heart.”

“I might not have any clothes or my favorite perfume anymore, but Carr lost tonight. No one died in the fire. I’m alive and you weren’t hurt. We won.”

He nodded. “And now I have you right where I want you.”

I smiled. “Is the big, bad boxer going to corrupt me?”

His face turned serious. “Some people would say I’m taking advantage of you. You’re so young, less experienced, a woman in trouble…”

I laughed. “Most days I feel a hundred years old. Like I’ve seen way too much. The carefree college student, who worried about exams and dating and affording a new pair of sexy heels…I can barely remember what she was like. I’m a different woman now.” I smoothed my hands up his chest, taking in the feel of his warm skin. I traced my finger over the lines of his tattoo, fromone hard pec to the other. “A woman who is really happy she stepped into your gym.”