His mouth went dry. “I’d say you are polite, but it’s fine, really.”
“What if I insisted?” she inquired.
He didn’t know if it was a challenge, an invitation, or both. “Then I’d say you better call me Tuck or Tucker.”
“Why does it matter so much?”
“Every time you call me Mr.Taylor it makes me feel like my dad,” he said softly. “I’d rather be me.”
“Very well, Tucker.” The sheets rustled softly. “You may join me.”
“I could sleep upside down to you.”
“So, your face would be by my feet?”
A soft chuckle escaped him. “All the better to keep the monsters away, am I right?”
“But then your feet would be bymyface.”
“This is true,” he conceded.
“Can’t we sleep side by side like betrothed adults who have three more days of travel together?” A note of practicality entered her tone, weaving through the weariness.
“All right, then.” He unfastened the buttons of his jacket one by one.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking my jacket off,” he answered calmly, continuing the slow, purposeful movement of his hands.
“I trust you shall remain fully clothed?” Her words carried a hint of wariness.
“I already said I could sleep on the floor.”
“I simply require assurance that you will be dressed.”
“All right, all right. I’m keeping my clothing on. Just minus the jacket,” he clarified before easing into the bed beside her. The narrow mattress forced him to hug the edge to avoid contact. The air separating their bodies was charged like static electricity.
“After enduring four days of travel, it is possible that we may still find ourselves needing to share a bed occasionally.”
He could smell her soap. It was a flower he recognized but couldn’t put his finger on, and something familiar yet spicy, like rosemary. “I hadn’t thought about what comes next.” He folded his hands over his stomach, clasping them tightly. It felt like he was playing the game Nora used to make him do in middle school: light as a feather, stiff as a board.
How was he going to sleep? Every single cell in his body was alert and at attention. His cornfield visualization seemed out of reach. He was too focused on wondering what she was doing. If the proximity affected her as well. He’d had women in his bed. But never like this. For some strange-ass reason, it was hotterto know she was there, so close, and so entirely off limits. If he so much as touched her cheek, it would have the same intent as pushing up her gown, sliding his hand beneath her parted thighs.
His cock jerked, flooding with heat. Shit. Why the fuck was he thinking about her nightgown? How it hid so much. Practically wrapped her up like a present. Imagining how slow it would be to open each button. The little reward each time he was successful, another flash of creamy skin. She was probably so soft, so warm, so fucking—
“Are you quite all right?” Her whisper made him start, as if he’d been caught out.
He cleared his throat, praying to whatever god wanted to listen that he didn’t sound hoarse. “I’m falling asleep—why?”
She paused. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t want to make you feel bad.”
Shit. Panic flooded him. She didn’t sense his hard-on, did she?
“You’re really stiff.”
