Page 26 of Weston’s Treasure

Good Lord, I’d never seen a back look so strong. His shoulders might possibly be the sexiest part of a man’s body I’d ever seen. I wanted to reach out and touch him, run my hands over the muscle and sink my teeth into his flesh.

Where the hell did that come from? What was I, a vampire?

Weston stood, dropped his pants, exposing his boxer-brief-covered ass and I nearly choked. This had to stop.

“We…um…should talk now,” I suggested.

“Scoot over,” he returned.

“What? Why?”

“So I can get in. I sleep on the side closest to the door.”

“Why?” I semi-repeated, mostly to buy time, not because I actually cared what side of the bed the man slept in. I only cared he seemed to think he was sleeping in it with me.

“Because I’m the one with the gun, and if someone gets into the room they have to get through me before they get to you.”

There was so much to process for that one simple statement that wasn’t actually simple—it was huge. But I didn’t have time to think about why my belly got warm and my heart started to swell, that he wanted himself between me and an imaginary threat.

I didn’t want to think about why that felt so good, and how no one had ever considered my safety—save my dad. But no friend, male or female, had ever cared to protect me.

“You’re sleeping in here?”

“Yep. Scoot over, babe, I’m wiped.”

“You’re wiped?”

Could I sound anymore like an idiot?

“Babe. Seriously, move over.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why’s that?” Weston’s lips twitched.

“Because I’m not that kind of girl.”

Okay, so I could sound more idiotic. Seriously? That was my reason? I wasn’t that kind of girl. Of course I was, and I showed him how big of a slut I was not even thirty minutes ago.

Weston was no longer smiling when he yanked the sheet down, scooped me up, put a knee to the bed, and moved me over a few feet.

His gaze left mine, went to the bottom sheet. Mine followed and there it was—soggy proof. My humiliation knew no bounds. Weston’s eyes came back to mine, and when they did, they weren’t full of mirth like I thought they’d be. Instead, they were gentle and soft.

Why me? That was all I could think about when he ignored the wet spot and climbed into bed. All thoughts about talking—gone. All the reasons why he couldn’t sleep in the same bed as me—gone. As a matter of fact, I never wanted to speak to or see Weston again.

And yes, I knew I was behaving like an immature idiot. I knew, and I was so embarrassed, I didn’t give a damn I was acting like I was two and not thirty-two.

“Not liking the deer-in-the-headlights look, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, and Weston jerked in surprise.

“And we’re back there again,” he mumbled.

“We never left there,” I stupidly said.

Stupid because in the blink of an eye Weston’s big body was looming over me. One elbow planted near my head, the other on the bed by my hip. He wasn’t touching me but he didn’t have to be to scare the bejeezus out of me.

“Sure we did, and that wet spot under my ass is proof.”