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Not yours, Isa.
Damn, he felt so right pressed against her.
So perfect.
But he doesn’t like what he sees. You embarrassed him.
“Not sure what is going through your head right now, Princess,” he murmured. “But I don’t like it. Don’t like you running from me. Don’t like the wobble in your voice. Or the way you’ve curved your shoulders. As though you’re ashamed.”
Shouldn’t she be?
She’d just had a nip-slip in front of him! Fuck, she’d come close to showing her nipple to the garbage truck driver. Thankfully, she’d still been hidden from the curb by trees.
“I need to go get dressed. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” He suddenly let her go and she expected him to give her a disappointed look and walk away.
Instead, he slipped his T-shirt over her head, covering her up.
Right. Because she was disgusting and he didn’t want to see her.
She took in a deep breath, his scent hitting her hard. It should have been awful since he’d obviously slept in his clothes all night.
But all she got was a hit of leather and a slight touch of mint.
It made her insides clench.
Don’t be drawn in by a scent. By a sexy chest and strong body.
You are not into him.
When had she turned into a liar?
“Isabelle, look at me.” His voice was cajoling, but she shook her head.
“I need to get back inside. I have to get dressed. Coffee. I need coffee too.”
Coffee made everything better. Right?
Well, one could hope anyway. Because this morning had just become a colossal clusterfuck.
“You’re not walking back into the house on bare feet.”
Well, what was he expecting her to do? Fly?
She hadn’t quite figured out her superpowers yet.
Then suddenly, shewasflying. She landed against his warm chest, his arm under her ass. She was curled up into a small ball. Like a kitten.
But Remy didn’t seem to notice or care. He strode toward the house as she wrapped her arms around his neck, scared he might drop her.
“I won’t drop you, baby.”
“Are you sure you can’t read minds?”
“I wish I could . . . then I might have some idea of what is going on in your brain.”
“You don’t want in my brain,” she told him. “It’s a real mess in there. A swirling, whirling mess. Someone really should tidy up, throw out some garbage.”
