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“Nowhere, I’m just getting dressed.” Zel yanked the T-shirt on and turned, keeping her gaze fixed on Ty’s face instead of the wide expanse of muscular chest dusted in dark hair. “Is there a problem?”
Was he already regretting their endorphin apocalypse? Or worse the sweet stuff he’d said afterwards.
Her heartbeat punched her throat like a rabbit on speed. Not that him regretting it would be bad. Because, of course, he hadn’t really meant it, and she definitely didn’t need him to mean it. Because this was not and would never be a thing thing.
“No problem,” he said, looking relieved. “It’s just… You seemed kind of spooked.”
Bugger, did he know his sweet, make that cheesy, compliments, had sent her into a tailspin of panic? Because that would definitely be bad.
“You’re sure everything’s all right?” He asked again, the tinge of color high on his cheekbones. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Ty, why would you even think that? Of course you didn’t hurt me.”
Good grief, his white knight complex was worse than she thought. How on earth could he look at her, after she’d ridden him like a bucking bronco, and still see a damsel in distress?
The tinge of color went a dull red and raced up to his hairline. The man was actually blushing.
Ty Sullivan really was one of the good guys. Which was exactly why she mustn’t let this get any stickier.
“That’s good.” His lips quirked. “I just didn’t want you to think…” He shrugged, obviously struggling. “That I was taking anything for granted. With you. While you’re here.”
“Actually I’d be more than happy if you took as much as you liked for granted.”
“All right, then.” He thrust his fingertips through his hair, sending it into haphazard tufts, the smile still a little unsure, but heating up considerably. “So we’re still good?”
“I’d say we’re exceptional.” She stepped towards him, to wrap her arms round those broad shoulders and enjoy the feel of his hands, settling on her waist.
His lips curved, so close now she could smell the yeasty scent of the beer. She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth, tamping down on the urge to lick across that sensual mouth. And taste him again.
“Actually, I was thinking, maybe we should renegotiate the sleeping arrangements for the weekend,” she said, seeing her opportunity to stave off any more potential freak-outs.
His hands slipped down to cup her buttocks, firm and warm and more than a bit possessive. “I guess there’s no sense you sleeping on the couch. All things considered.”
“Exactly…” she said. “But I think we should establish some ground rules first.”
The man was seriously addictive. Something she needed to keep in mind given that she had always had an addictive personality.
“I thought you were a bad girl who didn’t follow rules,” he
teased, the assured smile making her pulse pummel her throat in double time.
There was bloody Bugs Bunny again, mainlining coke now.
“I do, if I’m the one making them,” she said.
“Who said you get to make the rules?” The cocky grin spread across his face making him even more gorgeous. “Last time I checked this was a democracy not a dictatorship.”
The rabbit punching her throat went insane.
Piss off, Bugs.
“I get to make them because I happen to be an expert on them.” She needed to be practical and persuasive now, without getting intoxicated by those industrial strength pheromones ahead of schedule. “Because I’ve broken pretty much every rule there is in my time.” He didn’t need to know that these days she couldn’t afford to break the rules.
“I look forward to hearing all about that,” he said, the naughty streak back. “All right, let’s hear your rules,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into the hollow of her throat. Day-old stubble rasped across delicate skin, and a low groan escaped her lips. “But I should warn you I’m a tough negotiator.”
She didn’t doubt it for a second, adrenaline shooting through her as he carried on nibbling.
