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“All gone.” Dash returns.
“Promise?” I gulp. “I’m not going to turn around and find you waving the thing in my face?”
“Damn, I should have thought of that.”
I finally turn around again. sure enough, Dash is empty-handed—and bare-chested.
Hello.
My breath catches—and not with abject terror this time.
This man’s body should be in an art gallery.
Now that my leech-based freak-out is over, I finally have a moment to appreciate his taut, tanned chest, and his broad shoulders, and the tempting trail of golden hairs snaking down from his stomach towards—
I drag my eyes back up to his face, and find that he’s staring right back at me…
…With a matching expression of lust on his face.
I flush. Right. I’m just wearing a towel, too. A short, fluffy towel that barely covers the tops of my thighs, let alone the rest of me.
I clutch it tighter, and swallow hard, but still, the heat between us is shimmering.
Maybe I should have made that shower ice-cold?
“We should probably get ready for the gala…” He trails off without moving.
“We should,” I agree, also unmoving.
Because I think lust has glued my feet to the floor, because for the life of me, I can’t seem to move away. And Dash is no better. Instead of putting extra space between us, he steps even closer.
And reaches out to brush a lock of damp hair from my face.
Dammit.
How am I supposed to keep a cool head when his fingertips are grazing my cheek, softly like that?
How am I supposed to remember ground rules and boundaries when his eyes are on mine, full of heat and wanting?
How am I supposed to be smart here, when suddenly all I want in the world is just to reach out and…
Touch him.
So I do.
Sliding my hands across his bare shoulders, I step in, towards him. Oh God. His skin is damp, warm, and Dash inhales in a ragged breath.
“Callie…” he groans softly. “Do you know how crazy I’ve been, thinking about you?”
Oh my God.
“Same,” I say breathlessly, because is this really happening or just some kind of dream from blood loss and leech bite?
Then his fingers trail lower, down my neck and over the bare curve of my collarbone, and I don’t care. Dream or not, I am all in.
I shiver. His touch is like fire, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life before. My nipples tighten, my core aches, but I’m frozen in place, breathless and hypnotized by the slow glide of his fingers brushing over my chest, to the very edge of my towel, where it’s fastened.
Barely fastened.
