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Instead of continuing to try to loosen her grip, he let go. Suspicious, she pushed up on her hands and knees as cool air swept over her heated flesh. Before she could protest, he yanked up her infernal nightgown and placed a kiss on her bare ass.
She shivered. She simply couldn’t help it. And he laughed, the low, prideful sound curling her toes and dampening the traitorous area between her legs that refused to allow her to be levelheaded.
At least about him. She’d never had a problem with that before.
He slid the nightgown higher and trailed kisses over the small of her back. “Want me to keep going?” he murmured, tracing the crack of her ass with one silken fingertip.
“Where’s Kim?” she whispered.
“Work. She went in early. Lucky for us she wasn’t here last night. Apparently her new guy picked her up before I got home. I wondered if she heard when you—”
“Can we not talk about that? Please?”
“Why? Are you embarrassed? I’m not. I wish I’d taped your sexy moans so I could replay them when I’ve got my cock in my hand and I’m thinking about you.”
She tossed aside the pillow and rolled over, shoving her tangled mass of hair out of her eyes. “You expect me to believe you masturbate to thoughts of me?”
The corner of Brad’s mouth tipped up. “Whatever clinical term you prefer, yeah, I do expect you to believe it. In fact, the next time you hear the shower running in my bathroom, why don’t you come inside and see for yourself?”
“That you jerk off doesn’t prove you’re thinking about me. Even if you are, what does that mean? Other than you’ve developed some kind of unhealthy fixation.”
“Unhealthy? Says who?” One eyebrow winged up, disappearing under the golden hair that crossed his forehead. He’d let his hair grow longer than he usually did, and she didn’t know if she liked it.
Oh hell, who was she kidding? She’d like him with a full wig or bald. Naked or dressed. Though at the moment she certainly preferred him one way over the other.
“You’re not my Tim Robbins,” she said in a small voice, well aware she was fighting a losing battle. Again. Why did she even bother when she knew how good it would feel to give in?
She licked her lips as her gaze drifted over his loose navy T-shirt half-tucked into skintight black jeans. The man wore denim well. He wore everything well.
No one else needs to know what happens here between us.
That sounded better all the time.
“Never said I was. Though Susan Sarandon’s pretty hot, so I don’t blame him for going there.” He held up a hand when she started to speak, his eyes narrowing. “If you say she’s old, I’ll take you across my knee and—”
“What?” she asked breathlessly after he fell silent.
He expelled a breath. “You piss me off, you know that?”
“I didn’t know you ever got pissed off.” Because the urge to crawl into his lap was growing by the millisecond, she forced herself to kick off the sheet and roll out of bed.
“Get back here,” he said in little more than a growl.
His deep voice skated over her skin, the erotic potential in his demand tightening her nipples. “Or what?” She shot him an arch look before she headed into the attached bathroom to face herself in the mirror.
When she had, she wished she hadn’t. “Oh my God.”
“What?” He was up and in the doorway in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“Look at me.” Leaning forward, she tugged at the gaping neckline of her nightgown. He’d never tied it back up again. “I’m a mess.”
“Didn’t notice.”
“Right.” Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste. She waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move from his stance in the doorway. “Mind?”
“Uncomfortable with me here?”
She shrugged and uncapped the toothpaste. “Suit yourself.”
