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Looking down, I found a Marines shirt on my body, draping down over my butt and stopping just below my cheeks.
This was Mr. Langston’s room.
My heart seized at the revelation.
Holy shit, I was in his room—
Wait.
Why was I in his room?
I fell back, sitting down on the edge of the very comfortable, very gorgeous, very large bed. My mind wanted to know how many women had been in this bed. My heart was in denial.
He’s a very large man. That’s why he has such a big bed.
My mind drifted back to a few days ago, when that blonde woman hurried out of this house.Had she been in his bed?
Had she worn this shirt?
I gulped, my stomach turning. Denver Langston was a beautiful man, carved from the earth and build like a strong pine. Only a fool would think that the man didn’t have women.
Oh, this cowboy had women.
Probably a slew of them.
On speed dial.
Categorized by a number.
One for every day of the week.
That was his prerogative.
So why was jealous?
Shaking my head, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was nine at night. How long had I been out? How did I—
Oh, no.
Memories from this morning came rushing back, not slowing, not allowing me to brace for impact.
I was standing in the rain, surrounded by his smoke.
Then, I was in his truck, not wanting him to be cold.
My brow furrowed as I stared at my bare legs, my hands braced on the bed beside my thighs. Then…
Warmth. Strength. Pine, mint, and smoke. Grumbles, like thunder against my skin. Sheltered.
Held.
I was held.
My hand drifted to the shirt on my body. My clothes were gone. Had I been hypothermic? My heart was racing now, hurtling towards a finish line that I feared would never come.
Did Denver Langston…hold me?
The thought alone was pure madness. A man like that, holding a woman like me? A woman he hated. A woman he insulted. A woman who was trying to take everything from him.
