Page 21 of Better than Famous

"It’s perfect," she replied with a smile. "It feels amazing."

After I rinsed the soap away, I squeezed her hair gently in my hands to wring out the excess water. I turned off the faucet, the silence ringing loudly in my ears. Grabbing the towel, I wrapped it around her head like a turban.

"Up," I said gently. "Slowly, so you don’t get dizzy."

She sat up, blinking against the kitchen lights. As she reached up to hold the towel in place, her soft hands brushed against my rough ones. She didn’t pull away from the contact. She just stared at me. Her eyes were washed clean of the defenses she had been wearing for days. "I’m sorry."

I stiffened, ready to deflect. "We covered this, Sutton. You don’t have to apologize for what happen⁠—"

"No," she interrupted softly, reaching out to touch my wrist. "I need to say it. I didn’t lean into the lie to mock you. And I didn’t do it because I was running. In my world, everyone wants something. My label wants a hit song. My PR manager wants a sold-out tour. The press wants a breakdown. I haven’t been in a room with a man who didn’t want something from me in ten years."

I stood there, paralyzed by the raw honesty in her voice. The stoic façade I had been holding onto cracked.

"But you wanted me to be safe. You yelled at the photographer because you wanted me to have privacy. You let me be Kate because you knew Sutton couldn’t handle it yet."

She tilted her head back, staring up at me with an expression that made my heart race. It was open. It was yearning. "I didn’t want the bubble to pop because you are the first person in years who makes me feel safe."

The word hit me in the center of my chest.

Safe.

It was the one thing I had spent my entire adult life trying to be. After the fights, the jail cells, after the chaos of my youth... I just wanted to be the guy who made things safe.

To hear her say it, this woman who had the world at her feet, shattered my resolve completely.

I studied her. I studied the damp tendrils of blonde hair escaping the towel, clinging to the graceful curve of her neck. I studied her lips, which were parted slightly, pink and trembling.

I reached out.

I couldn’t stop myself. My thumbs grazed her jawline, tilting her face up. Her skin was warm and damp. She leaned into my touch, a soft breath escaping her lips as her eyes closed. The air in the kitchen changed. It became charged, electric, heavy with things we shouldn’t be feeling and lines we shouldn’t cross.

I wanted to kiss her.

Jesus, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to pull her out of that hard wooden chair, press her against the counter, and kiss her until we both forgot about tomorrow, about her fame, about the paparazzi lurking on the mainland. I wanted to claim the safety she expressed and turn it into something else—something wilder, something reckless.

I stared at her mouth, leaning in.

She is under your protection, a voice in my head screamed, sounding suspiciously like logic. She is vulnerable, she is scared, and she is cornered. If you do this, you are crossing a line you can never uncross.

The thought was like a bucket of ice water. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to slowly drag my thumbs from her jawline and break the contact.

Sutton’s eyes fluttered open. The dreamy warmth in her expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion as cool air rushed into the space between us. "Ben?"

"All done," I murmured. My voice came out thick and gravelly, wrecked by the effort it took to keep my distance. I backed up a step, putting three feet of distance between us before I lost my mind and pulled her right back.

She reached a hand out toward me. "Ben, wait⁠—"

"Go get some sleep, Sutton," I kept my tone gentle as I turned away, staring blindly down at the counter so I wouldn’t have to look at her full lips. "I need to finish cleaning up out here and you need your rest."

She stood, and I heard the painful hesitation in her pause, the silent question she didn’t dare ask aloud. Then, the soft scuff of her limp as she walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom.

The door clicked shut.

I closed my eyes, exhaling an eternal, shaky breath into the empty kitchen. My hands were shaking violently against the granite. I had washed the dirt away, but I hadn’t washed away the problem. In fact, I had made it infinitely worse.

I was in danger of falling for this woman. And knowing what was coming for her, that was the most dangerous thing I could possibly do.

Chapter Ten