Part One, Chapter Three

Looking closer at him, her expression softened when she took in the slight shivers running up his soaked body. She knew then that she wasn't going to turn him away. He needed to be close to her, and despite how it was going against all the 'rules' she had tried to set up, she wasn't going to make him leave.

Maybe because in a way, she realized that she needed him, too.

Shaking her head slightly, she turned and walked back to the bathroom to fetch a towel. She came out with one firmly grasped in her hand, and made her way towards him. Bare feet sinking into the pale carpet beneath her.

"It's way too cold this time of year for you to be wandering around the city without any protective clothing. I know that while in the jungle you didn't have to worry about pneumonia, but trust me… you keep this up you're going to find out what that means."

Letting the folded edges fall through her fingers till it was loose in her hands, she swung it over his head and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Letting it rest there as she grasped its edges and worked them against the wet strands that brushed his shoulders.

"You could use my shower if you like." She offered. Absorbing herself in the task of getting the ends of his hair dry. "I didn't use up all of the hot water."

"I bathed earlier after leaving the courthouse." A look crossed his features. "I didn't care for the smell of so many strangers on my skin."

Jane's brow rose slightly at that comment, but she let it slide. Besides, she was pretty sure that the major 'scent' that had disgusted him was the after effect of being in the same room as his uncle for so many hours. How many times has she seen victims of some sort of abuse do likewise after being in the presence of their abusers? Even in a controlled environment such as a courtroom?

Her hands in his hair stilled and she stepped back reluctantly. Leaving the towel on his shoulders. He had to reach up with his own hands to keep it from falling off. Taking over her ministrations with his own as he worked the towel through his mass of hair, all the while watching her carefully as she moved over to the dresser.

Opening the bottom drawer, she fished around in it for a moment till she located a pair of dark sweatpants. These, however, had never belonged to Michael. She had bought them a couple of weeks ago, when it had become apparent that John was going to continue to be a part of her life for some time to come. She had remembered his distaste at wearing another man's clothing, as well as his habit of either ruining his own, or not wearing enough of them, so with that in mind as well as the dropping temperatures outside, she has stashed them in the drawer to await potential further use.

Apparently she was going to have to start doing this quite regularly.

She handed the sweatpants over to him. "Go ahead and change into these. I'll see if I have a shirt big enough for you."

Trying to act as nonchalant about the situation as was possible, she turned back around and walked over to her closet. Keeping her back turned while he changed.

She did her best to ignore the sounds coming from behind her, but it wasn't easy. She was reminded of the moment in the Atrium a few weeks ago, when she had walked in on him bathing, and the vividness of her memories were still very fresh.

Closing her eyes as she heard the slide of wet cloth peeling away from bare skin, she tried to ignore the visual of him removing those soaked pants. Tried to ignore the image of the perfection that was hidden underneath, and failing miserably. The more she tried the worse it became. She could only keep her back turned and try to focus on the task at hand instead of what was going on behind her… and ignore the sensation of his gaze burning all too knowingly into the slender line of her back.

Finally spotting an old cotton nightshirt of hers, she snatched it up and turned back around only when she knew enough time had passed for his legs to be encased once more in the new pair of pants… and for any flush to her cheeks to abate.

He was still working on unbuttoning his shirt when she walked back over, but she didn't mind. She'd seen him without his shirt on so many times, that although the view was stunning, she could know look at him without the risk of losing about 40 points of her IQ.

She placed the shirt on the corner of the bed closest to him, and looked around. Trying to figure out where on the floor she was going to set up a place for him to sleep relatively comfortable, when he finally finished opening the buttons running down the front of his shirt. The skin underneath showing as the clinging panels of wet fabric attempted to separate.

It was that flash of skin that caught her eye. How could it not? He was so beautiful, like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life, and she was a healthy, full-blooded woman in the prime of her life. But it wasn't the sight of that still slightly golden skin stretched over honed muscle that made her stare, or even the beads of moisture clinging to its surface, and sliding down over his flat stomach to soak into the dry waistband riding low on his hips.

It was the dark slashes of bruises that raced over that glorious skin. Marring its perfection with the heavy shadows pressed into his skin. A testament to the battered flesh underneath the un-torn surface, and the pain he had been forced to endure at his uncle's hands.

~*~