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“Why would I mind?”
Digger grunted then got to his feet and stomped into the bathroom. As he did, it was like all the air in the room came back with a wallop, and I flopped onto the bed, trying not to fangirl about what was happening next.
For the first time in a few days, I felt like I’d slept. Really, truly slept.
After Father’s announcement, I’d had bad dreams and had spent most of the nights tossing and turning. Then, yesterday, I’d woken up after a couple hours and had been aching so badly that I might as well not have rested at all.
But I felt a lot better today.
My butt was sore, sure, and I wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the journey. Today would be long and grueling because I knew he wanted to hit Vegas tonight… Achieving the end goal would be worth it though.
I was going to be his wife.
I heard the shower turn on and tried not to think about a naked Digger.
Last night, he’d been the consummate gentleman, and I knew I’d put myself in a dumb position by asking him to help me undress, yet he hadn’t taken advantage of me. At my weakest, my body trusted him. I knew I was safe with him, felon or not, and he kept on proving that with his actions.
When the shower continued running for a long time, I thought he was doing one of two things—letting the water soak into his bones to ease his aches, or he was jerking off.
God, I hoped it was the latter.
I’d felt his erection against my knee. The first I’d ever experienced because Kris had been shy and he’d backed away like I’d zapped him with a Taser when he got a boner.
Digger’s had felt big.
Heavy.
Thick.
I swallowed.
I could almost imagine him picking up his shaft as the shower water pelted him, could see him in my mind’s eye holding it in that large, tattooed hand of his…
It’d fit in his grip, but I bet it wouldn’t in mine.
I spread my fingers wide and studied the size of my palm—no, it definitely wouldn’t fit in mine.
Biting my lip at the thought, I tried not to get turned on, but after waking up how I had, you bet your damn ass I was thinking about sex.
With him.
Lots of sex. Withhim.
Men got morning wood every day, so I knew it didn’t mean anything really. But as he jerked off, was it too much to ask that he’d be thinking about me seeing as I was the closest woman in the vicinity?
Plus, he’d slept with me. And I smelled good even if my clothes were starting to be a little worse for wear. Did that matter to men?
My brain whirred with nonsense, so I calmed myself down with thoughts about perfect and imperfect competition, running down the theories on both.
God, I hated economy class.
When the shower turned off, my heart started racing again, and I sat up, arranging my legs on the bed so that I didn’t look as ungrateful as I had the last two nights.
“What the hell were you thinking face-planting on the bed like that?” I grumbled under my breath as I turned my attention to the TV and tried not to look as if I were waiting for him to show up.
TVGM, the morning breakfast show, had Savannah Daniels talking to some celebrity about the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree tonight, but I didn’t give a damn if it was Christmas or Easter.
Would he come out wearing only a towel?
