But how much longer could he hide that heart from the one woman who’d always owned it?
Before first light,he’d already made coffee and given Hairy—ineffably stupid but sweet, as always—a walk, some food, and a good rub. Then he’d almost tripped on the damn dog, who seemed intent on remaining underfoot when he wasn’t sniffing after poor Kitty, who lay exhausted, cranky, and well-licked on her least-despised blanket.
Once Sebastián worked up the courage, he crept into his bedroom, cursing his idiocy. If he hadn’t gotten so rattled last night, he’d have remembered to grab the necessary clothing and toiletries for the next day.
Lucy needed her sleep. He didn’t want to wake her. If he didn’t particularly want to face her either, that was an entirely irrelevant issue.
But her eyes were open when he cracked the bedroom door, and she sat up. “Morning, Seb.”
In his bed, she looked just as he’d sometimes dreamed. Sleepy, rumpled, and warm. Soft and relaxed and happy to see him. Gorgeous.
The covers fell to her waist as she flicked her hair behind her shoulders. She’d worn an oversized tee to bed. Innocuous enough. And her bralessness, while welcome, wasn’t exactly a change from her normal attire. But he knew for a fact she wasn’t wearing one of her voluminous skirts, since yesterday’s offering lay draped over her suitcase.
Those bare, curvy legs were tangled in his sheets right now, and he couldn’t breathe.
Was she wearing any underwear at all? Or would she be warm and naked all over if he tugged aside the covers?
Shit.Stop staring, man. You’re being creepy and weird.
“Good morning.” He cleared his throat, trying to make his tone convey his total lack of interest in the sexy woman lying in his bed while possibly panty-less and definitely braless. “I forgot my clothing. I’ll be out of your way in a second.”
She propped a pillow in front of the headboard and scooted back against it. “No problem. Take your time.”
Then, to his dismay, she just watched him. And damn it, his fingers kept fumbling with the drawer handles and the things he needed, like underwear and socks.
“I haven’t seen you shirtless since high school.” Her smile contained a hint of naughtiness he hadn’t spied in far too long. “You look good in a pair of pajama bottoms, Castillo.”
He had to smile. “You haven’t really seen me shirtless now either. Without your glasses, I’m just a man-shaped blur.”
“I can see better than you think.”
He wasn’t touching that loaded statement. “Once I grabmy toiletries, I’ll leave you in peace. There’s still plenty of time to sleep before we have to go.”
“I’d like to doze a little longer.” Her back arched in a sinuous stretch, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “But Hairy is probably squirming and crossing his legs by now, so I’d better get up.”
“I took care of that. You can relax.”
He darted into the bathroom, snatched a handful of random bottles, and raced for the door to the hall. Before long, the state of his pajama bottoms would be obvious even to a woman with severe myopia. He needed to flee. Now.
She flopped down onto her back again. “Thank you so much. In that case, I really am going back to sleep. Could you wake me an hour before we have to leave?”
“Sure.”
The door was almost closed when she spoke again. “Seb?”
Oh, Jesus. Not anotherquick question. His heart would implode.
He couldn’t speak. Instead, he simply waited.
“If you looked in my suitcase…” She paused. “If you looked in there, you’d see a bunch of papers too. Every terrible limerick you ever wrote me. Even the high school one about Allie, where you rhymedAlyssawithass-kissaanddiss-a. I put them all in a binder years ago.”
She’d packed her unnecessary items and moved them into storage. Did that mean she considered all those awful literary offerings, written solely for her amusement…necessary?
Did that mean she consideredhimnecessary? As necessary as he considered her? But if so, why was she moving?
She didn’t say any more, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he closed the door quietly behind him and fed his disgruntled cat while trying very hard not to think about how easy joining Lucy in bed would have been.
Two hours later, he was still trying. Even the sight of herfully dressed—or as fully dressed as she ever got, anyway—didn’t stave off the wholesale lust that had overtaken him in the past twenty-four hours.
