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He was deeply asleep, facedown on his stomach so that his premium backside was peeking from the covers along with one sleek hip. And she all of a sudden, and quite terrifyingly, had to fight the fact that she was starting to think of exclusivity with him. It wasn’t something they had talked about, but she saw his reaction whenever Pete got close to her. Thinking of Sean with another woman made the little green-eyed monster bite hard on her heart.
His hair was tousled, thick, and drew her hand to smooth if from his temple. The skin on his chest she knew was silky because she’d had it pressed against her breasts. And she marveled at how she wanted him again.
The shattering way he made love to her was addictive, and she couldn’t imagine ever letting another man touch her like she let Sean touch her.
She wanted him.
All of him.
She wanted to absorb him into her, let him fill up and shore up all those places where she lacked. Good and bad, physical and emotional, soul and heart. She wanted every bit of him.
And knew with trepidation that she probably always had. That he was the man her heart had no doubt been daydreaming of for years, this generous man who was becoming someone she found irresistible.
He was the man her spirit had been looking for.
As fascinated by the recognition, as she hungered for it, she moved closer to him to get a better view of the man every part of her longed for.
She couldn’t imagine getting along without his friendship.
Didn’t want to.
She needed him.
And that made him dangerous.
She waited for the irrational fear, the customary rush of apprehension, to put distance between her and the thought. It didn’t come, and that was a sweet little surprise.
He opened his sleepy smoky-gray eyes. Smiling with a dangerous languor, he touched the skin of her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the indentation.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
“You’re still here.”
“Where else do you think I’d rather be?”
“I don’t know. Independent Lana.” He moved closer to her, drawing her into his arms. “Intimacy and independence are sometimes like oil and water. They don’t mix. Giving yourself over physically is so easy. Trusting someone in slumber when you are your most vulnerable can be more difficult.”
“I like sleeping with you, Sean, and seeing your face first thing after I open my eyes.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For letting me have that.” He unfolded, caressed her cheek, her jaw. Ran a gentle thumb across her lips so that they parted slightly, readily, and tried to follow when he drew his hand away. “For giving me that kind of depth in our friendship.”
“We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“But we haven’t been lovers that long.” Sean offered her a purely male, purely wicked grin.
“It’s been wonderful.”
He nodded. “So now that we’ve established that we trust each other, why don’t you tell me what keeps you tossing and turning both at the station and here?”
Lana bit her lip and should have realized that Sean would know that although she acted fine, she was a chaotic mess inside. “It’s just that for a split second, I almost dropped her.”
Sean didn’t miss a beat. “But you didn’t.”
