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Would that involve him touching me?
A huge part of me wants to say yes, but the more rational part opens my mouth to refuse—except it’s too late.
Evan dips his finger into the thick liquid and draws a line with it on my forehead.
Holy aloe. This feels amazing, but probably not due to any medicinal properties of the ingredients. Evan’s touch is hot and tingly on my skin, but the poultice he’s left behind is cool and soothing.
“Should I continue?” he murmurs, his blue-green eyes glimmering down at me.
I nod silently. If I open my mouth, I might tell him to stop—or worse, to keep going and never stop.
He spreads the line he made on my forehead so that it covers all the surrounding skin.
I swallow hard. Is my forehead an erogenous zone, or has it turned into a clit? Merely soothing pain shouldn’t feel this good.
Evan dips his finger back into the jar and tenderly applies the poultice to my right cheek.
Correction: my cheek is the erogenous zone. The brush of his fingers is disturbingly like a lover’s caress, and it makes my head spin… and certain lower regions feel like they’ve gotten sunburned too. But in a good way.
Evan spreads the concoction over the rest of my cheek. I try very hard not to moan or let my eyes roll back. I do, however, turn my other cheek to him without being prompted—and more soothing pleasure is my reward.
Okay, my panties are officially wet.
This is not good.
Really not good.
I’m not into flings, and even less into one-night stands, but that is what my treacherous body seems to want.
But no. Even if I wanted to break my rules, there’s the fact that Evan doesn’t want a fling either, particularly with a tourist and doubly so with a breakfast thief like me. On top of that, there are practical considerations, like Aunt Flo and?—
“Would you like me to put some on your back?” Evan murmurs.
Is he freaking kidding me? I have a strong will and all, but not that strong.
“I see,” he says, clearly taking my dazed silence for refusal because he puts the lid on the jar of the poultice and hands it to me.
Instead of taking it, I blurt, “Yes.”
Golly. My heart is hammering in my chest so fast I glance at Octothorpe Glorp to make sure I’m not experiencing arrhythmia.
One-twenty? It appears Evan’s touch can put my body into the fat-burning mode faster than any elliptical machine.
My dear Precious, your body isn’t just a temple, it’s perfection on par with diamonds and Brussel sprouts. You need not gain or lose an ounce of that sweet nectar that is your fat.
Evan cocks his head, the way Harry might. “Yes?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I take off my coverup and thank the gods of propriety that I have bathing suit underneath. “Yes, please put the poultice on my back.”
Chapter Eight
Evan
My dick is so fucking hard I would not be surprised if I passed out from the shortage of blood to my brain. That shortage must also be the reason I offered to paw at Brooklyn’s back after merely touching her face flooded me with more hormones than when I first got to third base.
And here is my punishment. Her almost-bare back in front of me, which, despite being red, is lithe and deliciously tempting.
Oh, well. I’ve made my bed. Now I must lie in it.
