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“Getting you undressed so you can crawl under the covers. You need to rest.” He removed the other shoe.
“Tristan…”
“Where are your pajamas?”
“I don’t need them,” she said, but he’d already found her suitcase and unzipped it.
“Found them.” He pulled out what looked to be a pair of sleeping shorts and a T-shirt and offered them to her. “Your PJs, am I right?”
“Yes.” She held the clothing he tossed her way to her chest like a shield.
He couldn’t stop from teasing her. “Would you like me to help you in them?”
She tugged a hand through her hair, and her voice hitched. “I’ve got it.”
Was her real hair short or would it tumble around her shoulders? Hell, he didn’t even know if it were curly or straight.
“Spoil sport.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat.
She shot him a look that managed to convey both exasperation and adorableness at the same time, and he grinned like a damn fool.
He meant to leave her alone to put on her pajamas then, but his fingers reached to caress her cheek, and she placed her hand on his. Their gazes connected, and suddenly, he no longer cared about the secrets she guarded or whether her eyes were brown or blue underneath the contacts or if she would leave him tonight. He cared only about the here and now—this moment—the incredible softness of her skin, her warm strawberry scent, the painful pounding of his heart, which threatened to beat its way out of his chest, and her red, red, lips.
“Zoey, I…” She needed her rest. He should go.
Her eyes were so large in her oval face, he was drowning in them—her irises such a clear green, he could see into her soul, and what he saw left him breathless. What he saw made him believe in happy ever after. His throat scratched, and he cleared it again, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He remained frozen in place, waiting.
She tugged him toward her. “Don’t leave me.”
That was all the signal he needed. He practically dived onto the bed, rolling with her in a tangle of arms and legs and pajamas. He held her close, stunned by her softness and the way her chest moved under his as she drew in air, and the taste of her skin and the fact that she was under him.
“Tristan,” she gasped as his lips kissed every bit of flesh he could find. “Tristan, I…”
He was crushing her, of course. The knowledge crashed in on him with blinding clarity. What a selfish jerk he was. She’d only just recovered and all he could think about was burying himself in her softness.
It practically killed him, but he put a little space between then, propping himself on his elbows.
“I should leave. You’re tired,” he managed, but neither of them moved.
He brushed a piece of blonde hair from her eyes, and there his fingers lingered, seeming to have a will of their own, stroking down the line of her cheek.
She gazed up at him, a shyness in her expression, which tugged at his heart until it was almost painful. He lowered his head slowly, slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to tell him where to go.
She didn’t, and their lips connected. And then he was drowning in their perfect smoothness and their bowed shape. She moved under him restlessly, and his pulse rocketed when she wound her arms around his neck. He backed off, but she pulled him toward her.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
Oh, he pleased alright. But his guilty conscious required him to give her one last chance to get away, so he pulled himself up to study her face. What he read in her eyes took his breath away. There was excitement and passion and a warm invitation.
“Zoey? Are you wanting…”
“You,” she said and kissed him.
ChapterTwenty-one
Lillian was quite certain she’d never felt so secure as she did in Tristan’s arms. She’d put up a good fight, but the ending was inevitable. She’d known it the first time he’d touched her, when she felt the rush of his energy and realized he was a burner. She’d known it last night when she’d had to hide in her bedroom. On some fundamental level she needed him, needed the safe haven he provided, and this was what made it impossible to fight the attraction between them any longer.
That was her last rational thought before she was drowning in a sea of sensation.
