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He didn’t look back.
—
The hot spray of the shower beat against Matt’s face like a thousand tiny fists demanding a piece of him for
jeopardizing the most important thing in his damn life. How could he have been so reckless? God help him if she ever walked away.
He couldn’t bear it.
Wrenching the shower knob, he stepped out and toweled off. His eyes wandered to the oversized glass stall behind him. He should have taken her in the shower, braced her against the smooth tile wall and—damn it! He shouldn’t have touched her at all.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, he was still mentally berating himself when he strode out of his room toward the kitchen and paused. Maybe he shouldn’t walk around like this anymore. No, talk about an ego. First, Nichole would notice if he suddenly changed his behavior around the townhouse, and second, she’d already seen him in a lot less.
Christ, you’re being an ass.
In preservation of the status quo, he headed down the hall. As he passed Nichole’s door, it opened, and she stepped out in her ugly pink robe. His mouth went dry and he stopped. God, she looked good.
“Hey.” Christ, he didn’t have a thing beyond that to say. All he wanted was to push the fuzzy lapels of that robe back and run his hands over the soft curves he knew where hidden beneath it.
“Hey, back at you.” She laughed. And then, as if he deserved mercy, even in the slightest degree, she said, “Okay, so it’s a little different this morning—err, afternoon. We had one night of play, we’re allowed one day to recover from the fun and get back to just being us. We’re only human, right?”
The anxious breath he’d been holding back slipped out in a long sigh of relief and Matt reached for her, pulling her into his chest for a hug. “Thanks, Nickie. I swear, sometimes you read my mind.”
She chuckled. “I think we’ve been friends for so long, I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking.”
Was it just his imagination, or did her voice carry a trace of regret?
She cleared her throat, nudged out of his arms, and leaned back against the doorframe, picking a loose thread from the cuff of her robe. “So speaking of friends—I talked to Lindy while you were in the shower, and we’re going out tonight if you want to join us.”
Matt took a casual step back, hoping it didn’t look like retreat. He needed to think. Needed time away from Nichole to get his head straight.
“Not tonight, I’m sort of beat after…” his eyes trailed down her body to where her bent knee split the overlap of her robe. She rubbed one slender foot with those pretty red toenails against the front of her standing leg while she talked to him. What had he been saying? “I’m ready for a night in.”
“I know, a night at home is tempting….”
The heat of her gaze scorched his chest and his stomach knotted. No room for tempting. No. No. No.
Her voice trailed off track in his consciousness as he watched her knee rock up and down, the sides of her robe parting infinitesimally more with every motion. He wondered if she was nude underneath it. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her when they’d first awakened, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if her skin still showed the marks of his possession. How long would it take to make her wet, to make her nipples bunch tight and coax the first groan out of her? Last night all it had taken was his kiss, a single thrust of his tongue into her soft, wet mouth, and she’d hungrily begged for more, molding her body to his, giving herself over…completely.
He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to live off her warmth, to exist solely for the sensation of her body climaxing around his.
Holy hell, she’s still talking!
“….so it should be fun,” she finished, her smile holding a hint of tension as she searched his face.
“Yeah, sounds like it. Sounds great.” Goddamn it, he’d become the guy who fantasized about fucking her, nodding like a jackass while she talked, and not listening to one word she said. That kind of thing just didn’t happen to him. He wasn’t that guy, didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be the guy she could turn to for the rest of her life. The guy she never fell for and never got over. He wanted to be the one who stayed, and that meant getting away from her now, at least until he could have a conversation with her without his fantasies ending up in her panties.
Christ, her panties.
What had he done? One night, and his brain turned to smut soup whenever he looked at her.
He had to get out of there. “Nichole, I’ve got to get some stuff done today. I’ll be back tonight.” What a bullshit copout—but he couldn’t think. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his head screamed a thousand things at once.
She looked stricken, confused. But she raised her chin and shrugged it off. “No, no…go. Have a good day. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Chapter Six
Nichole unzipped her parka and walked into Brewer’s Pub, shaking off Lindy’s arm as her friend asked for the thirtieth time in ten minutes if she was okay. Really okay? Just pretending to be okay?
