The man stretched out on that bed was like a Greek god who’d come down to earth. Gym-created muscles were all well and good, but there was something primordial about a body that had been carved from hard work. Dev was an absolute specimen, from his broad shoulders and heavy arms, to his six-pack… to his bulging thighs that strained those poor running tights.
She wondered just how far Nike had gone testing the tensile strength of all that nylon.
And then there was the erection he did nothing to hide. As with the contours of his legs, every detail of his arousal was visible from the long shaft to the blunt and curving head.
“You have to go?” he murmured. “Or did you put your coat on because you think it’s cold in here?”
Lyric glanced down at herself. Huh. Guess some part of her had made a decision.
Looking back up, she found that his eyes were hooded with banked heat and that the dark waves of his hair were all messed up—because her hands had been in them. With his parted lips, he was the picture of a male who’d been interrupted at the wrong time.
But he didn’t seem frustrated or angry.
No, that was her job. The frustration, that was.
“I…” She pulled her hair back and tied the length in a loose knot. “I don’t know.”
Dev nodded and started to sit up—Jesus, talk about a show. If he was all hard angles lying down, the rippling motion under his skin now was a show to watch—
“No.” She put her hand out. “You just hang. I’ll see myself to the door—” She glanced over her shoulder. “I mean, the exit. Downstairs.”
Dev eased back against the pillows, stretching an arm behind his head. “Suit yourself.”
Oh, God, why the hell had she come here. She had all the dating chops of a nun, and meanwhile, Mr. Sexual with the humongoushard-on over on the bed was just business-as-usual, like women came and went all the time for him.
And could he maybe drag a blanket over that baseball bat of his? Having that thing out on display reminded her of the time she’d tried to give up chocolate and had seen M&M’s everywhere.
Then again, he’d make a tent even with all that spandex—fuck.
Focusing on her parka, she went to zip things—
When she glanced up, he was right next to her. Neat trick, given that human men supposedly didn’t dematerialize.
She let her hands drop. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for.”
“I…” Lyric shrugged—and decided to fuck it and be honest. “I really want to have sex with you. Except I’m just not sophisticated enough to walk away a couple of hours from now all, ‘Hey, that’s cool. See ya.’ If I stay, I’m going to regret it. Not because it didn’t feel good, but because I’m just doing a different version of the shit I decided to get away from after last night.”
“And what shit would that be?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“Okay, I’ll walk you out,” he said evenly.
As a sinking feeling set up shop in the center of her chest, she thought, holy crap, how ridiculous. It was the height of insanity to feel let down because he so smoothly respected the boundary she’d set. What did she want? Some kind of tug and pull just to prove he wanted her?
She made a casual motion with her hand. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
As he grabbed his windbreaker and pulled it back over his head, she snuck a final glimpse at those abs. Then he was opening the door and holding it wide.
“Ladies first.”
Zipping up her coat, she shuffled past him, and looked down thehall. There were a dozen other doors, the elevator in the middle, and an open staircase over on the right. Heading for the steps, she waited for him to lock up. He didn’t.
