But the usual alarm bells were nothing more than a distant hum. Every nerve in my body was tuned to the places where we touched—the tip of his nose brushing mine. His warm palm on my thigh. The hand at my back sliding higher, until his fingers curled into the base of my skull.
I wanted to lift myself onto his lap. Straddle him. Feel his hard body press into all my soft places.
I wanted to run.
I wanted?—
“You are…” John squeezed my thigh. Just once.
A gasp escaped me before I could catch it. There was no pretending anymore. No excuse for either of us lingering in the other person’s space this long.
I slid my palms up his pristine shirt, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath, grazing the stubble along his jaw. I drank in every texture ofhim—John Kater. My fingers slipped into his hair, clutching, pulling him closer. Desperate to close the gap.
If he didn’t touch me—reallytouch me—I was going to combust.
His head dipped. His lips angled?—
“Nora, stop.”
I reeled back as if I’d been slapped. Scrambled to my feet on shaking legs. Had I misread everything that just happened? Had I just thrown myself at him?
Oh god.
“I’m sorry,” I said, backing up a step. “Forget it. I read it wrong.”
“Nora.” He reached for my hand, catching it before I could run. “That’s not?—”
I tried to pull away. Vivian flashed through my mind. Beautiful, elegant Vivian.A Hollywood star.
Of course John would want someone like her. What the hell had I been thinking?
“I thought you didn’t want—” I started, then stopped, heat crawling up my neck. “Never mind.”
He pulled me toward him. Close enough that I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dark. Hungry. Torn.
He guided my hand into his lap. Where I felt…everything.
Oh. OH.
His voice was rough and low. “It’s not the wanting that’s the problem. Trust me.”
My thighs clenched tightly together. My mind reeling over what my palm was feeling.
“Okay,” was all I managed to say. All that was left in my English vocabulary.Verdammt.
His eyes snagged once more on my parted lips. “I just can’t.” Then he pulled away. Leaving me burning.
Air rushed from my lungs. I suddenly felt disoriented.
On screen, a commercial blared. Something loud and cheerful. The noise was jarring.
John stood, avoiding my gaze. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your room.”
I followed, legs still wobbly, unsure how to hold my body, unsurewhathad just happened. Or almost happened. Not wanting to remind him how he’d told me I'd be the one sleeping on the sofa.?
He opened a small door, flicking on a warm bedside lamp. The glow landed on a tall stack of books beside an unmade bed.
