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Her voice flitted around his mind, distracting him, making him think about taking charge of her, making the fire in her eyes burn brighter still, making her cry out because he was inside her.
His fingers skidded on the lock.
Cursing, he counted to five and then continued.
Still she filled his thoughts. The sight of her in the tight black dress had blanked his brain for a while there. She was so perfectly packaged. He’d always been attracted to her. The secret smile, the curious expression, her rebellious streak. She looked as if she always had something on her mind. The store card buckled. Concentrate. It’s a matter of security. The thought of someone else breaking in, doing her harm, made him even more determined. It also made his blood boil.
The lock clicked open.
He took a deep breath, shoved the Kevlar into his pocket, and pushed the door open. Expecting to hear her shout at him, he prepared to explain “As I said, poor security…”
Once the door swung wide, he saw she wasn’t where he’d left her, standing with the sad, almost resentful look in her eyes when he declined her invitation.
From beyond the bathroom door he heard the sound of a shower.
She was in there. Presumably naked. The sound of the shower drummed in his brain. The door to the tiny bathroom was ajar, just slightly, and steam wisped out as he watched.
Okay, he told himself, get the stick, and go. But his feet were fixed to the floor like cement blocks were holding him there.
He had to tell her he’d been able to break in, proving he came back.
Just pick up the USB, write her a note, and leave. It would be the right thing to do and he wanted to do the right thing. Stepping to the futon, he reached down and pushed his hand along the fold in the mattress, quickly latching onto the lanyard. Pulling the stick free, he shoved it in his pocket. Now leave. You can tell her to change the lock tomorrow.
His mind presented a picture of her, naked in the shower. It wasn’t hard to imagine. He’d seen her flitting about the house in a towel back at home in Cadogan. She’d always been a provocative little Madam. She’d told him she wanted him.
Then he thought he heard her voice, and it sounded as if she was cursing.
Unable to resist, Rory moved quietly around the futon and over to the bathroom door. The sound was muffled, but she was definitely mumbling to herself.
With one finger, he pushed the door a little wider, straining to hear what she said. He didn’t intend to actually look, but steam billowed over the top of the shower curtain and — with it — the sound of a frustrated moan.
The sound was so incredibly sexy, he couldn’t move.
Again a breathless moaning sound came from inside the shower curtain.
The sound of it made him harden. He should leave. It was wrong to be standing there, listening to her. Should he try to warn her? Yeah, sure. He could shout out while she was in the middle of showering, naked. That would be a good way to announce his presence.
The desire to see her grew overwhelming.
She had invited him to stay, after all.
The scent of musk filled the steamy atmosphere.
Maybe he should have turned away, but instead he saw her red painted fingernails as she pulled the curtain aside to put the shower gel on the nearby shelf. Then the sound of the water ceased.
One hand grasped the edge of the shower curtain and pulled it back. She reached for the towel rail, pulled the towel free and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out onto the bathmat.
It was too late to walk away, even if he’d wanted to.
Her naked, wet body had been revealed to him. The towel was too small and barely covered her damp outline, the curve of her bottom showing beneath its hem. He’d just about processed the information when all the blood left his brain.
Sky turned his way.
Gasping audibly, she stepped back and butted up against the sink. Reaching around with one hand, she steadied herself. As she did the towel began to slip free.
“I’m sorry” he blurted, hands lifted in a guilty plea. “I didn’t know you were having a shower.”
Rory half expected her to scream, or at least tell him to fuck off and to stop staring — because he couldn’t help staring right then. No man in his right mind could help staring then. Mascara smudged beneath her eyelids. Her red-streaked black hair clung to her head and neck, the tips trailing across her chest, dripping water.
