Chapter 7
Jakobe's whispered word—honey—exploded against Audra's ear. A violent rush of heat flooded her face, her cheeks and the tips of her ears burning a deep, humiliating red. She wanted the expensive carpet to open up and swallow her whole. Her hands grabbed the edge of the blanket, her knuckles turning completely white.
"I... I was just saying that to get my mother off my back," Audra stammered, her voice barely a squeak. "It meant nothing."
Jakobe straightened his posture and looked down at her. She was curled in on herself like a frightened turtle. The dark amusement in his eyes slowly faded into something heavier. He didn't push her verbally; he knew her defensive walls were currently pushed to their absolute breaking point.
Turning away from the bed, Jakobe walked over to the marble wet bar on the other side of the suite. Audra heard his footsteps walking away and her chest deflated, thinking he was finally leaving in disgust. But then, she heard the clink of glass, followed by the sound of water pouring from a pitcher.
He walked back to the bed, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
"Sit up," he commanded. His tone wasn't harsh, but it left zero room for argument.
Audra instinctively straightened her spine, lifting her chin so her bandaged eyes faced his general direction. He held out the glass of water. Audra reached her hand out, but because she couldn't see, her fingers grasped at empty air, missing the glass entirely.
Jakobe watched her clumsy, desperate movements and let out a quiet breath. Instead of moving the glass to her hand, he reached out with his free left hand and grabbed her wrist.
Audra's entire body jolted. The heat of his palm burned right through her cool skin, sending a shockwave directly into her nervous system. This was the first time, aside from the accident in the hallway, that they were touching—real, deliberate, non-contractual physical contact.
Jakobe didn't let go. He guided her trembling hand forward until her fingers pressed against the cold, smooth glass. His long, rough fingers brushed against the back of her knuckles, the friction sending a terrifying shiver down her spine.
She panicked, trying to grab the glass and pull her hand back, but it was heavier than she expected. It tilted, water sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
Jakobe moved instantly. He brought his right hand up and wrapped both of his large hands completely around hers, stabilizing the glass.
"Don't move," he said, his voice suddenly thick and raspy. "Do you want to soak the bed?"
Audra froze perfectly still, not daring to breathe. She let him hold her hands, let him guide the rim of the glass to her lips. She tipped her head forward and took a small sip of the water, entirely dependent on his physical guidance. The water soothed her dry throat, but the air in the room felt dangerously thin; she couldn't get enough oxygen.
Jakobe looked down, his eyes locked onto her soft, pink lips parting to drink the water. His Adam's apple bobbed hard against his throat. A red warning light flashed in his brain. This was wrong. The prenup clearly stated no emotional entanglement, yet here he was, feeding his wife water like a devoted husband.
Audra pulled her head back slightly. "Thank you. I'm done."
Jakobe snapped out of his trance, letting go of her hands abruptly. The sudden loss of his body heat made her shiver. He placed the glass on the nightstand with a stiff, uncoordinated movement and shoved both of his hands deep into his trouser pockets, desperately trying to rub away the lingering softness of her skin against his fingertips.
Neither of them spoke. But in the heavy silence, a dangerous, electric tension began to violently multiply.
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