Текст книги "Striking Distance"

Автор книги: Pamela Clare

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

.”

CHAPTER

21

FEELING WARM AND tipsy, Laura rested her head against Javier’s chest, her arms around his neck as they danced barefoot in slow circles. He sang along to the music in soft Spanish, one big hand at her waist, his other arm holding her close. He filled her senses, his body hard and strong against hers, his voice smooth and beautiful, his masculine scent as heady as the champagne.

Some part of her had melted hours ago under the force of this subtle but sensual seduction, her desire for him undeniable. Never had any man made her feel so cared for, so special. And still she hesitated, not wanting to start something she wouldn’t be able to finish. He’d said that whatever happened was up to her, but how would he feel if she got into bed with him only to shut down?

Don’t think about that. Just enjoy the moment.

She closed off her mind, determined to feel her way through this night, to let her heart and body guide her. She breathed him in, let her mind drift, savoring the experience of being in his arms, his heartbeat steady against her cheek, his embrace a refuge from the tumult of her life. Somehow her lips found their way to his Adam’s apple, his singing ending on a quick exhale as she kissed him there. That kiss led to another and another, her lips tracing a path up the side of his throat to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, his pulse quickening against her mouth.

But giving herself a taste of him only made her hungry for more. She turned his face toward her, drew his head down, and kissed him.

He gave a soft moan, his lips responding to hers, matching every nip, every caress, every flick of the tongue without taking control of the kiss from her, his restraint both arousing and sweet. She yielded, arching against him, parting her lips for him, welcoming the heat of his tongue. He slid a hand into her hair to cradle the back of her head as he angled his mouth over hers, taking the kiss deeper.

Lost in the moment, she slipped her hands inside his jacket, sliding her palms over the rough fabric of his vest to feel the hard muscle beneath. She had never touched Al-Nassar, never put her hands on him, the act of caressing Javier resurrecting only good memories. One by one she undid the buttons, sliding off his vest and his jacket with it, the white cloth of his shirt a stark contrast to his dark hair and brown skin.

“I want to undress you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I haven’t touched a man since . . .

since you

.”

“Come.” He took her hand and led her to her bedroom.

Her heart gave a nervous skip as she turned on her bedside lamp, being in the bedroom more intimidating than the living room. And for a moment she stood with her back to him, trepidation snaking its way up from her belly. She did

not

want to hurt him, didn’t want to disappoint him.

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses against the side of her neck, the sensation making her shiver. She dimmed the light and turned to face him.

He ran a thumb down her cheek, emotion burning in his eyes. “Do whatever you want with me.”

Under the heat of his gaze, she began to unbutton his shirt, the cloth giving off a pleasing starchy smell that mingled enticingly with the scent of his skin—salt and fresh linen. She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall to the floor, leaving his chest bare.

She stepped back, let her gaze feast on the sight of him, heat flaring to life in her belly. The play of light on his satiny brown skin. The twin bulges of his biceps. The sculpted curves of his shoulders. The slant of his collarbones. The smooth planes of his pecs. The red lines of his scars. The flat brown disks of his nipples. The deep groove that bisected his abdomen. The firm ridges of his six-pack. The angles of his obliques as they sloped toward his groin.

God, he was beautiful.

She reached out with both hands, letting them follow the same path her gaze had taken, indulging in the male feel of him, warm, smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. She heard his quick intake of breath as she ran her thumbs over his nipples, felt his abdomen tense as she grazed it with her fingertips, watched his hands slowly clench as she stroked the length of his obliques.

But she wasn’t finished.

She grasped the waistband of his trousers with trembling hands, struggling with the hidden button. His hands closed over hers and dealt with the button, leaving the zipper to her. She unzipped him, then pushed his trousers away from his narrow hips and down his thighs. He kicked the trousers aside, standing before her wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, the hard ridge of his erection outlined in sharp detail.

The breath left her lungs.

The closest she’d come to sex since her rescue was fantasizing about this body, about Javier, and now here he was, standing before her, ready to do whatever pleased her.

But what was that? She wasn’t sure.

If this had been that weekend in Dubai, he would have already picked her up and laid her down on the bed or pinned her against a wall, his sexual assertiveness like nothing she’d experienced before. But this time he was waiting for her.

Don’t think. Just feel.

Ignoring her fears, she turned her back to him and drew her hair aside. “Unzip me?”

She felt Javier tug at the zipper, felt her gown fall open in the back. He lifted the gown over her head, let it fall to the floor, a finger tracing down her spine, making her gasp and shiver. Wearing only her bra and panties, she turned in his arms, his gaze sliding over her like a caress, the heat that emanated from his body warming her.

She thought he was about to kiss her again. Instead, he slowly sank to his knees, grasped her waist, and pressed his lips to her belly.

Her stretch marks. He was kissing her stretch marks.

Tears stung her eyes, her throat tight, the sweetness of his gesture as overwhelming as it was unexpected, his complete acceptance of her body and what she’d been through feeling like redemption.

* * *

JAVIER WANTED TO take it all away—the pain she’d suffered, the violence, the fear. But he couldn’t. Instead, he kissed the part of her that had been hurt.

He’d always been closer to the Puerto Rican side of the family than the Cherokee side, but his father had taught him when he was still a boy that men should always show respect for women because women carried inside them the place where life began. Laura had been violated, this sacred part of her abused and exploited, the baby she’d been forced to bring into this world stolen from her.

If only he could give back what had been taken and heal that pain . . .

Her fingers curled in his hair as he pressed his lips against the faint silver lines on her skin again and again, her breath catching on a little sob.

But he hadn’t meant to make her cry.

He slid his way up her body, wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, and kissed her slow and hard and deep. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him as if her life depended on it. And he remembered.

She had asked to touch

him

.

He stretched out lengthwise on the bed, watching as she crawled onto the bed beside him. She was like a vision from a sailor’s wet dream, her breasts swelling over the cups of her bra, the dark lace making her skin seem impossibly pale. He ached to touch her, to kiss her, but she hadn’t asked him to do either—yet.

He’d rather eat his own balls than ruin this for her.

She knelt beside him and slid her hand slowly over his chest, a look of sensual tension on her face, her hair spilling over one shoulder. “You are so beautiful.”

He was already so turned on that he had no idea how he was going to get through the night without humiliating himself, and her touch only made it harder, need for her drumming in his chest like a heartbeat. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and caught the weight of her hair in one hand. “I’m glad you like what you see.”

But

she

was the beautiful one.

Holding her hair aside, he watched as she bent over him and began to scatter kisses across his chest, her lips scorching a trail on his skin, the sight every bit as arousing as the sensation. Her hot tongue flicked one of his nipples and then the other, making his breath catch, the lace of her bra abrading his skin where she brushed against him. And the ache in his groin grew sharp.

Staying passive like this was new for him—and it wasn’t easy. Whether it was the old

Boricua

machismo or the drive that had pushed him up to the top of the enlisted ranks, it was in his nature to take control, to lead. Instinct told him to get her out of her bra and panties, draw her beneath him, and taste every inch of her until she forgot to be afraid. But he willed himself to remain still, yielding control to her. And yet as difficult as it was to surrender, there was something erotic about it, too.

Frustratingly, aggravatingly, maddeningly erotic.

¡Puñeta!

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

She nipped the ridge of one of his obliques, making him jerk, her lashes fluttering as she looked up at him, her mouth curving in a teasing smile.

So she

did

know—and it was clear she was aroused, too, her pupils dilated, her breathing fast, her nipples puckered beneath black lace.

Somehow that made it harder to endure, her kisses more sensual now, her warm tongue sliding over his skin, her teeth nipping him as she kissed her way with unbearable slowness across his belly. He’d been hot for her before she’d kissed him, days and nights of holding her and sleeping beside her fueling his desire. Now his skin was so sensitive that the slightest brush of her fingers made his muscles jerk, his cock straining against his boxer briefs and hard enough to split wood.

She traced the line of body hair that ran southward from his navel, her fingertips teasing the skin at the edge of his boxer briefs. Slowly she drew them down, his cock springing free. “I want to taste you.”

Did she expect him to object?

“Are you sure,

bella

?” He smoothed her hair back from her face, her lips wet and swollen from kissing him.

“Yeah.” She smiled, a sweet, sexy smile that made his heart skip.

She took him in hand and began to stroke him slowly from root to tip, a look of curious fascination on her face as if he were terrain she was exploring again after a long absence. Her motions were cautious at first, almost awkward. He would have reached down to guide her, but giving a hand job must have been a lot like riding a bike, because she got the hang of it quickly.

Hell, yeah, she did.

Javier found himself holding his breath, his hips rising to meet her strokes as she built up a rhythm, his body already perilously close to orgasm. Then she bent down and took him into the heat of her mouth, and he knew he was in trouble.

¡Diache! Hell!

It felt so damned good, her tongue swirling around the aching head of his cock, her mouth and fist moving in tandem up and down the shaft. He caught her hair with his fists, held it back to give himself a view—and instantly regretted it, the sight of her devouring him bringing him to the brink. He fought to relax, to keep his hips from bucking against her, to enjoy the feel of it for as long as he could—or at least long enough not to embarrass himself.

You’re a SEAL, damn it, not a minuteman.

“You are

so

good,” he managed to say. “If you don’t stop now . . .”

Those were the last coherent words out of his mouth, his eyes drifting shut, his breathing ragged as she brought him to the brink, then finished him with her fist, pleasure scorching through him as he came, leaving him out of breath.

He felt the bed shift and opened his eyes to see Laura reaching for a tissue. She wiped off her hand, dropped the tissue in the trash, then reached for another. He took it from her, cleaned himself off, then drew her into his arms.

“If tonight was supposed to be about you, why am I the one who just came?”

* * *

LAURA NESTLED AGAINST Javier’s chest, wanting him to understand but not sure she could explain. “If you think I didn’t enjoy that, you’re wrong. I haven’t been able to

give

anything to a man since we were together. It was all just . . . taken.”

Taken, stolen, beaten from her.

But tonight she’d been able to bring pleasure to a man she cared deeply about while staying in control. It had been intensely erotic to see his muscular body straining against her touch, to watch him come apart when he’d climaxed, his muscles tensing, his body arching off the bed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Watching you, seeing the effect I had on you—I loved it.”

It had been more than a little arousing. The aching wetness between her thighs was proof of that. She hadn’t felt this sexually alive since . . .

Of course, it had been much easier to focus on him than to have his attention—and his hands—on her. This way, she hadn’t had to worry that she might freak out and make him feel rejected.

She could see on Javier’s face that he didn’t understand, but that was probably because she hadn’t explained it very well.

He stroked her hair. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to do to you what you just did to me?”

She felt a clench deep in her belly, her pulse spiking partly out of fear and partly out of raw sexual need. It had been so long since she’d viewed her body as a source of pleasure rather than a weapon to be used against her. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“Would you let me try?”

Her pulse raced faster. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings or—”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “I would never do anything you didn’t want me to do, but it would help me if you told me what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m afraid of hurting your feelings, of damaging our friendship.”

“And I told you that is never going to happen.”

She might as well come out with it. “There are . . . some things you should know. You don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant because I had my tubes tied. I had never planned on having children anyway, and after what happened . . .”

He could understand that.

“Also, I don’t know how I would feel about you being on top of me or inside me and . . . and no anal play.”

“I thought we agreed in Dubai that neither of us was into that last one.” Understanding dawned on his face. “Aw, God, Laura,

no

. I’m so sorry.”

She blinked back tears, willing herself to look straight into his eyes. “My body was a battleground for so long, and I . . . I don’t know how to let you get closer.”

He sat up and ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I can think of a thousand ways to make love to you,

bella

, a thousand ways to satisfy you. Forget about everything but us. Just let me touch you. Tell me what feels good.”

His words sent a tremor through her, hope warring with despair inside her.

He teased her lips with his, traced their outline with his tongue, nipped them with his teeth, tiny bites that brought only pleasure. And her lips began to burn. Then he claimed her mouth with a slow, deep kiss that she knew would drive darker thoughts from her mind—if she let it.

Don’t think. Feel.

She leaned into him, her lips parting for him, her tongue accepting his, the warmth of his body and his strength seeming to surround her. By the time he broke the kiss, they were both breathless, Laura’s heart pounding so hard she was certain he could feel it against his chest.

“Laura, mi amor.”

One of his hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat, his lips pressing kisses against her cheeks, his tongue teasing the whorl of her ear, his teeth nipping the tender skin just above her pulse.

Shivers danced across Laura’s skin, her breath coming in sighs.

“I want to see you. I want to feel you. Can I take this off?” One hand tugged on her bra strap.

“Yes.”

He sought for the clasp, unhooked it, then tossed her bra aside, leaning back to look at her. His brown eyes went black as he stared at her breasts, her nipples drawing tighter under the heat of his perusal. “So beautiful. I want to touch and taste you the way you touched and tasted me.”

She nodded.

Don’t think. Feel.

He cupped and lifted her breasts, his thumbs making slow circles over her areolas, the sensation sweet, shards of heat splintering through her, the ache between her thighs growing stronger. “Do you like that?”

“Oh, yes!”

He teased her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, caressed them with his palms, pinched and rolled them with his fingertips. Then with a moan, he arched her back, bent down, and began to suckle her, the wonderful sensation making Laura gasp.

She heard herself exhale in a long, trembling sigh, feeling the heat of his mouth and the friction of his tongue all the way to her womb. She grasped his shoulders and held on, every tug of his lips heightening her need for him, until her hips began to shift impatiently beneath her, the ache inside her begging to be answered.

Javier withdrew his mouth, making her moan in frustration. He turned her, brought her hips square with the edge of the bed, then knelt between her thighs. “Now I can reach all of you.”

“Yes, Javi, please!”

He leaned in, cupping one breast with his hand, holding it for his mouth, his tongue flicking lightly over the aching, puckered bud while the other hand slid slowly, agonizingly down her side, over the curve of her hip, along the outside of her thigh and up the inside again, his fingers teasing and tickling her skin. “Is it okay if I touch you—”

Before he could finish asking the question, her hips answered for her, moving against his hand.

He grinned, his finger seeking and finding her clitoris. “I don’t get why women are afraid of how they look here. You are so damned hot, Laura, and so wet. I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

Her heart gave a hard knock.

He began to stroke her, teasingly at first, his mouth finding her nipples and suckling her again, the two sensations together almost more than she could handle, the ache inside her making it impossible to hold still. Her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders, her anticipation building.

When his mouth left her breasts it was almost a relief because she knew where he was headed. But he wasn’t in a hurry to get there. He trailed kisses over her rib cage and down to her belly, flicking her overly sensitive skin with his tongue, making her body jerk just as she’d done to him earlier.

Without breaking the rhythm he’d built with his hand, he ducked one shoulder down and then the other, catching her thighs, nudging them farther apart. “Mmm . . . Beautiful.”

But rather than putting his mouth on her, he began to kiss and nibble her inner thighs, the exquisite sensation raising bumps on her skin, making her shiver.

She sank backward onto the bed and lifted her feet onto his shoulders, all hesitation fading in the face of his sensual onslaught.

“Oh, yeah,

bella

, open for me.” He parted her labia, lowered his mouth to her, and tasted her with a single long lick.

She gasped, her back arching, her fingers curling in his hair.

He licked her again and got the same response, his groan proof that he was enjoying the sight and taste of her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, drew it into his mouth, and sucked, tugging on her with his lips.

Laura had forgotten what it felt like to have a man’s mouth on her, had forgotten the staggering pleasure of it. She buried her fingers in his hair, let her knees fall open to give him more room, and was rewarded with a deep groan, the low sound sending vibrations through her swollen flesh.

She was trembling now, her breath coming in pants and gasps, his mouth working magic. Some part of her had longed for this, longed to give herself to him, to be strung out on him, to reel out of control at his touch. Oh, God, it was sweet!

But that delicious ache inside her—it wouldn’t go away. She felt a throbbing emptiness, her body yearning to be filled, needing to be filled.

She panted out the words.

“Inside me.”

With a moan, he slipped a finger and then two inside her, stretching her, filling her with slick, deep strokes, driving her toward the edge.

And then she was flying, orgasm shimmering through her in blazing, golden waves, the bliss of it tearing a cry from her throat as she was lifted skyward, then left to float breathless and weightless among the clouds.

After a time—she couldn’t say how long—Javier drew her into a sitting position, scooped her into his arms, and lowered her to her pillow, stretching out beside her. His gaze was warm, his lips wet, his skin drenched in her scent.

“A thousand ways?” Tremors of pleasure still shivered through her.

He smiled, ran a finger over her lower lip. “That was just one.”

CHAPTER

22

JAVIER DIPPED THE strawberry first into melted chocolate, then into brown sugar, and then into the dish of sour cream. He held the strawberry to Laura’s lips, watched her take it with her tongue.

Her eyes drifted shut as she chewed. “Mmm.”

She sat beside him wearing her bathrobe over hot-pink panties and a white cotton tank top that left little to his imagination, her hair still wet from their shower.

He leaned in and licked a spot of chocolate off her lower lip. “That good, huh?”

She opened her eyes, smiled. “Your turn.”

She selected a fat, red strawberry for him, dipped it in the three small dishes, then held it to his lips.

His gaze fixed on hers, he took her offering and chewed, the sweet-tart-chocolate taste combination surprising him as it exploded across his tongue. “Mmm. Amazing.”

She’d been right when she’d said it was a culinary orgasm.

They’d already polished off their eggs Benedict—which, Javier had discovered, was just a name for poached eggs served on an English muffin with Canadian bacon and some kind of lemony sauce—and were finishing their mimosas and the strawberries he’d grabbed on the way back from his run. He hadn’t had many breakfasts as nice as this, and he knew he would never forget it, not only because of the food and the company, but also because it had followed one of the most incredible nights of his life.

He would remember every moment of last night until the day he died. Last night, he had watched Laura come back to life in his arms. She had trusted him, and together they’d found a way to break through her fear. No, they hadn’t had conventional sex—no tab A in slot B—and yet it had been one of the most sensual nights of his life. If he’d doubted that he was in love with her, those doubts had been blown to bits.

Wouldn’t the guys get a kick out of this if they knew? The Cobra was hopelessly, helplessly in love—and happy about it.

You are in deep shit,

chacho

.

As for Laura, she’d slept through the night without a single nightmare—which was more than he could say for himself—and seemed more like her old self than she had since he’d arrived in Denver, more playful, more lighthearted, a smile on her beautiful face more often than not. Just seeing her happier made him happy.

They’d already made love once this morning, making creative use of touch and tongues and tile walls—not to mention Laura’s pulsing showerhead.

“That’s two,” he’d whispered when she’d sunk against him in a boneless, postorgasmic stupor.

There was nothing like sex to wake up a man—or a woman—in the morning. And, despite his nightmare, this was the most relaxed he’d felt in months.

He reached for another strawberry, dipped it, and held it out for her. “Where’d you learn this? Is this the way your grandma serves strawberries, because, man, if it is, I got to figure out how you stay so skinny.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, fighting not to laugh while she chewed. “I learned this from my college roommate. She learned it from some other woman and used it to try to seduce some guy she was seeing.”

“She went to all this trouble for that? All she had to do was tell the man he’d be getting puss—” The annoyed look on her face cut his words short. “Uh . . . I mean . . . did it work?”

The corners of Laura’s eyes crinkled, and she burst into laughter. “Just so you know, the p-word doesn’t offend me provided you use it for the correct body part and not to insult people. And, honestly, Javi, I think all women understand that about men. In this case, she was looking for more than sex.”

“Oh.” Okay, that made sense. “She was?”

Laura dipped a strawberry for him and held it. “I think Kim wanted to do the traditional thing—marriage, kids, the dog.”

“You got something against dogs?” He took the fruit from her and was again blown away by the taste.

“I’ve always been focused on my career.”

And Javier’s mood dropped a notch.

They fed each other the rest of the strawberries, the conversation drifting while Javier tried to sort through his feelings. Yeah, the nightmare had sucked. It had been the same nightmare he’d been having off and on for the past three months. He’d been lying wounded in the dirt, holding Krasinski’s hand, trying to keep him conscious, only to discover as the medevac helo went up in a fireball that it was Yadiel bleeding out beside him. But Javier didn’t think the nightmare was to blame for how he felt right now.

Then it hit him.

When they’d met in Dubai, Laura had been clear that she didn’t plan on getting married and having kids. He’d felt the same way. They’d both agreed—no strings.

But now Javier found himself wanting strings.

How was Laura going to feel about that?

She looked into the small dipping dishes. “I wish we had more strawberries. We’ve got leftover chocolate.”

Javier set his thoughts aside and smiled. “I know just what to do with that.”

Oh, yeah. She was going to like number three.

* * *

LAURA LEANED BACK against Javier’s chest in a tub of hot water, feeling languid and sleepy, little tremors of pleasure still shivering through her, her body replete, the chocolate that hadn’t been licked off her skin now washed away. “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He kissed her hair, one arm encircling her just above her breasts, his fingers caressing her shoulder. “You know I am.”

“How did I get so lucky?” She trailed her fingertips over his forearm.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“One night in Dubai, a man steps in to save me from two drunk Russians, and the next thing I know, I’m in bed with him.”

“Nah, not in bed.”

He was right. The first time

hadn’t

been in bed.

“The next thing I know, he’s shagging me against the wall.”

“It’s a miracle we weren’t arrested.”

True. But that wasn’t the point.

“Now, more than three years later, that same man steps back into my life and changes

everything

. I never thought I could have this again. I thought . . . I thought this part of me was dead. Thank you, Javi.”

He kissed her hair again. “Hey, all I did was open the door.”

“Oh, you did more than that.”

By some miracle, Laura felt almost whole.

He nuzzled her ear. “Well, I am pretty good in the sack—or so you’ve said.”

She smiled. “You’re very humble about it, too.”

Javier wasn’t just the most creative lover she’d ever had or the most confident, but he was also the most thoughtful. She’d seen that side of him in Dubai, but she’d come to appreciate it even more last night, perhaps because that was what she needed most this time. He’d been patient with her, getting her consent each time, making certain that she felt comfortable—and then driving her wild.

It amazed her to think that he was still holding back. If she’d just met him, she would have no idea how forceful he could be, how physical sex could be with him. As much as she treasured the gentleness he’d shown her, some part of her was beginning to long for the thrill of his more aggressive side—and the feel of him inside her.

She hadn’t found a way to tell him yet, still afraid that she would freak out the moment she felt him thrust into her. But the ache was there.

She wanted him—all of him.

But there was still time for that. In Dubai, they’d had only three nights and two days, and that had been magical. They still had more than a week to be together, and . . .

Her pulse spiked.

More than a week.

That was no time at all.

In the blink of an eye, this would be over. He would go back to the dangerous job that had almost cost him his life, and she would stay here in isolation, waiting for the cops to catch this killer, working at the paper, fighting to get Klara back. And God only knew whether they’d see each other again.

No, she couldn’t let that happen this time.

She decided to come right out and ask. “Can we stay in touch this time?”

“Are you asking for my phone number?”

“E-mail, phone number, address—and your grandmother’s, too.”

“You want to call my

abuelita

?”

“If anything were to happen to you, I would want to know.”

“Well, it’s kind of sudden. You’re talking about taking our relationship to a whole new level.” He kissed her cheek, his voice going soft. “You got it,

bella

.”

* * *

BY SUNDAY EVENING they’d made it to number seven. Laura knew it was humanly impossible to reach a thousand in the time they had, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try.

Javier had made love to her with his mouth, his fingers, her massaging showerhead. He’d even made them both come by rubbing her clitoris with the hard length of his erect cock. They’d tasted each other on the bed, in the shower, on the table, on the floor, and still Javier kept coming up with ideas that were new to her.

Ice cubes. Side-lying sixty-nine. A dab of minty mouthwash on his tongue.

She was just finishing the supper dishes and thinking about the start of the workweek when she heard a buzzing sound. She turned to find him standing there, one dark eyebrow arched, her blue jelly vibrator buzzing and rotating at high speed in his hand. Heat flooded her face. “Oh, my God! Where—”

“You left one of the bathroom drawers open.”

Helvete! Damn!

She reached for it.

He angled his upper body away from her and held it out of her reach. “Hold on. I’ve got a right to check out my competition. Are you blushing? You are.”

She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “I don’t blush.”

He leaned in, still holding the vibrator out of reach. “The hell you don’t. Look—your cheeks are all pink.”

She lunged and tried again to grab it from him, torn between amusement and irritation. “Give that to me!”

“You want it,

bella

?” He grinned, took a step back. “You’re going to have to let me use it on you.”