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She can't want sex, not when she's jeeked. Why else would she ask me to come in? I stare at her, unable to move a muscle except to speak."Are you sure?"
"Uh-huh." She unlocks the door and pushes it inward. "I'm not that tired."
She yawns, her mouth gaping open so far I can see her back molars.
Not that tired? Rubbish.
I settle a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. "I would love to come in, but no sex tonight. You're far too tired."
"Losing interest already?"
"Never." I skate my hand up to her neck and gently knead her nape, gratified by the way she relaxes into my touch, giving up the pretense of not being exhausted. I kiss her cheek. "I plan on debauching you plenty tomorrow. But for tonight, I'd be honored just to sleep beside you."
She gazes at me, not blinking, her lips parted. But it isn't desire triggering that expression. It's surprise.
I suppose the lass can't believe I'd want to sleep with her, actually sleep, with no sex involved. It does contradict my claim that all I want is a four-week fling, but I don't give a toss. For one night, I need to lie in bed with her and fall asleep with her body nestled against mine.
Erica shuffles into the house.
I follow and shut the door.
A furry body sails through the air at us.
Casey lunges right past Erica to tackle me. I stumble but stay upright and ruffle the pup's hair with vigorous strokes while havering to Casey the way dogs love.
"Do you have a dog at home?" Erica asks.
"No, but I always had them growing up." I straighten, and Casey switches his attention to his mistress, greeting her with a slap of his tongue on her hand. I scratch the back of my neck, eyes averted. "My wife did not like animals."
Casey nuzzles Erica's hand, whimpering and wagging his tail.
"He wants a snack," she tells me, then heads for the kitchen with the pup following close behind.
I trail after them and can't help smiling when Erica retrieves a plastic bag from the refrigerator and tosses small pieces of some sort of meat to Casey. "What is that you're feeding him?"
"Raw chicken gizzards. Casey loves them." With a playful smile, she holds out her palm, and I see one gizzard seated in it. "Wanna try some?"
"No, thank you. I had raw sheep intestines for breakfast."
Her nose crinkles. "Please tell me that's a joke. It's hard to tell. I mean, you Scots love haggis which looks like something a dinosaur barfed up."
"Maybe I'll cook haggis for you sometime. You might like it."
"Doubtful."
She goes back to tossing chicken gizzards to the dog, who clearly loves his snack.
When she's finished, I raise my brows and smirk. "Planning to touch me with those hands?"
She wiggles them in the air. "Yep. Still want to sleep with me?"
"That's why God made antiseptic soap. Besides, I've been all over that body several times, in the most intimate ways."
She turns away from me to wash her hands in the sink.
I come up behind Erica to grasp her shoulders, resting my chin on the crown of her head, and coast my hands down her arms with deliberate slowness, relishing the feel of her skin, the warmth and softness of it against my rougher palms. I barely hear it when she sucks in a shallow breath. When I reach her wrists, I pause there for a moment with my thumbs over the pulse points, then I move my hands to envelop hers.
With our fingers interlaced, I nuzzle her hair. "We'll risk the germs together. Eh, lass?"
