“Thanks,” she murmured, letting her gaze linger on his mouth. “You sleep okay on the couch?”

“Fine.” Short. Clipped. He stepped back, putting the counter between them again, and took a long drink from his own mug. His knuckles were white around the handle.

Rebekah leaned against the counter opposite him, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that lifted them slightly, the thin fabric outlining her nipples—which had pebbled the second she stepped into the room. She took a sip, watching him over the rim. “I keep thinking about last night. The ride. How safe I felt with you. Even with everything going on… you make me...