Jessica focused on Reed. He made quite a sight as he stood over the stove stirring his pot and wearing faded, worn blue jeans and green button down shirt. The clothes looked fresh and clean. He must have changed while she was in the spare room, she thought. His hair was black as night and cut short around his ears and neck. Compared to her he was tall—at least eight inches taller. She knew his face was rugged, his jaw squared, his nose straight and narrow. The rest of his facial features were a blur to her.
Broad shoulders anchored two thick, muscular arms. Not bodybuilder big, but arms that were accustomed to lifting heavy weights. His torso narrowed down to his hips. Her gaze lingered there, where his lower back curved slightly before forming his tight ass.
Jessica felt her face flush. She wasn’t innocent in any way, shape or form, but she couldn’t remember ever noticing a man’s ass this way before. She had a peculiar need to walk up, grab it with her hands and squeeze. Now she knew she had a head injury. Here she was running for her life and she was thinking about molesting her rescuer.
This was all too surreal. She was being chased by a serial killer, crashed her car in God-knows-where and now she was standing in a home that looked like it belonged at a ski resort. The apparent owner, a magnificent specimen of a man, had just given her a bath. What was next?
“Soup?”