From Here to Hidden

CHAPTER 34 | BETH

She wasn't sure how long she tossed and turned in the bed before she finally passed out. When she finally did fall asleep, she dreamed of Jason. Of his hands on her back, leading her around and around his kitchen floor. She finally awoke at half-past 6:00 and decided that she would jump in the shower before everyone else woke up. Tossing the blankets off of herself, she slipped out of bed and opened the bedroom door.

Poking her head out, she listened to see if there was any movement downstairs. Hearing nothing, she tiptoed to the bathroom down the hall. Opening the cabinet under the sink, she realized that there were no towels.

Well, crap...that won't do. I wonder if there are any downstairs in that other bathroom? I can just run down and grab some and come back up.

Pulling the bathroom door to, just enough to leave light so she could see to go down the stairs, she padded softly down the steps. The house, from what she could tell, was still totally silent and dark. From the looks of things, no one had moved all night—the door to the media room was still closed and the coffee from the night before was still in the pot. Jason had apparently gone straight to bed after they said goodnight.

Reaching the bathroom, she opened the door and flipped the light on, sending bright light spilling into the hallway. She hurried to pull the door shut behind her so as to not wake anyone up. She opened the linen closet against the wall and pulled out two towels and a couple of washcloths and turned back toward the door. She caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror and paused. Why was it that the illustrious 'smoky eye' look was best achieved after sleeping with makeup on? Her hair, despite not being brushed, fell in almost perfect waves around her face. She smiled, realizing for the first time in a long time, that she was completely content with the woman looking back at her in the mirror.

She flipped the light off to prevent casting the same blinding light into the hallway, surprised that the bathroom was much darker than she expected. Stepping out into the hallway, her eyes failed to adjust quickly enough to the near blackness around her. She didn't notice Jason's bedroom door ajar, even as she bumped into the wall in the darkness. She rounded the corner and headed back for the stairs, plowing right into a shirtless and still sleepy, Jason. She could hear the coffee in the pot brewing and assumed that he had gotten up to shower.

He was wearing the plaid pajama pants from the night before. Only this time, she realized that they that hung dangerously low on his hip; settling right below his navel. Even in the dark, she could tell he was in far better shape than most 40-something men she knew; his abs faint but still noticeably present. His biceps were strong and defined and his chest was firm. He was the picture of masculinity if she had ever seen it. His dark hair was tousled and unkempt atop his head, giving him that boyish look that made her stomach tighten and her palms sweat. He had a sleepy grin on his face, but his eyes were still filled with mystery and uncertainty.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," she whispered, dropping the towels she was holding on the floor. She leaned down quickly to scoop them up in her hands before standing again. She stood, feeling Jason's suddenly heated gaze on her as she tried, but failed, to look away from him. She had never considered herself a primal or sexually driven person, but every part of her body tightened within her. The heat filled her face and chest and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She swallowed hard as she fought the urge to reach up and touch him; to feel his bare skin against her hands. She forced herself to inhale as she reluctantly recognized that she, at some point, had stopped breathing. She finally lifted her gaze to meet his face.

"Good morning," he finally said. A knowing smirk crossed his face. No matter what he did professionally—former preacher or not—the man had to know that he was attractive. He had to know by her expression what kind of thoughts and images were racing through her mind. If he didn't, he was more naive than she was.