Back in the bedroom, I exchange the towel I’d wrapped around myself for Whit’s shirt from last night. As I pull it from the chair, I note my dress and underwear, wavering from a moment in my decision. Should I get dressed properly? Or take a clean shirt from his closet. But then it wouldn’t smell of him, I decide as I slide it on, pressing my nose into the collar as I inhale. The scent of him makes my insides turn all gooey again.
“You seem deep in thought.”
I press my hand to my chest as I spin to the doorway. “Oh my gosh, you scared me!”
“Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all, judging by his expression and the way his eyes flit over my bare legs. He’s already dressed in dark jeans and a gray fine knit sweater that clings to the flat of his stomach and molds to his biceps. He slides his hands into his pockets, resting his shoulder against the doorframe.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“It’s too early for confession. Breakfast?” he adds, his expression turning purposely bland.
“What’s on offer?”
“Keep looking at me like that and you’ll be breakfast.” His lips curl, part seduction, part amused.
That istotallywhere my mind went, but is it any wonder when he looks so delicious? “Who says I’m looking at you like anything?” I answer instead.
“You think I have an overactive imagination?”
I affect a small shrug.
“Pity.” The way his eyes slide over me feels like the brush of silk against my skin.
“How’s your lip?” It looks better than last night. It’s just a little swollen, and there’s barely a hint of bruising.
His finger lifts as though to touch it. “Why don’t you come and take a look at it yourself?”
I can’t believe he went for that asshole, and I can’t believe I find physical violence such a turn-on. “Looks good from here.” I slide the sides of his shirt a little closer, feeling as though my naughty thoughts are exposed.
“Are you coming?” he asks with a tiny smirk, as tempting as the devil himself. “I have coffee.”
“The prospect is exciting, but…” I tamp down my ridiculousness even though he does chuckle. “Coffee would be lovely. Caffeine might help pull me from this sex haze.”
“That would be a shame.”
My cheeks start to burn. Why aren’t my brain and mouth friends?
“Coffee it is.” He straightens, pushing from the doorframe. “Breakfast has just arrived.”
“Just give me a minute to put on some clothes?”
Whit sort of pauses as though considering something, then says, “What you’re wearing looks good.”
I glance down at his shirt. The buttons aren’t yet fastened, but I’m not flashing anything. Nothing he hasn’t already seen, anyway.Touched. Kissed.“Yeah?” I say as I glance up.
“Yes, definitely. If it was up to me, I’d tell you to wear the shirt.” He gives his head a shake as though rousing himself from some thought. “Seeing you in it is all kinds of hot.”
My nerve endings begin to flicker and flash like a pinball machine. I’ve read about this. How men like to see women dressed in their clothes, that it gives them a kick. Some sense of ownership.
“The shirt and nothing else.” He laughs as he delivers his verdict.
“That’s a surprise. Not.”
“I’m just saying, underwear is optional.” He turns, his footsteps echoing along the hall.
You’re a hot little fuck in lingerie.
With an unsteady breath, I reach out and catch a hold of the back of the chair as the echo of his words come from nowhere. What the man can do to my body with one look is nobody’s business. But the things he says create an actual visceral reaction within me. And the things he does… well, I’m not sure words have been created to describe that.
