“Get in the bed, Paige. Catch some sleep.”
She offered a shaky smile. “Oh, I’m not tired.” By the nightstand, head bent so that the tips of her hair tucked under her chin, she seemed inordinately interested in the bountiful condom basket. “Can you believe some of these are flavored?”
God. Zach crossed his arms and tucked his hands into his armpits, trapping his fingers. “Your shirt is wet.”
She tensed in surprise, glanced down at herself, then up with a gasp.
He signaled with one unsteady hand. “I can see your . . .” Pink, stiff, beautiful nipples. The blood rushed up to his head, dizzying him. “Get in the bed. Cover yourself.”
She didn’t move. Stared with a look so familiar, so full of longing, his heart hurt.
“Get in the bed, please, Paige.”
Flushing, ignoring his comments, she nervously rummaged through the condom basket. “Apple. Strawberry. Peach.”
He swallowed, yanked his shirt off, feeling just a hair away from insane. A breath away from begging for her, begging for tenderness, for an opportunity to feel her skin under his fingertips. “Here. Put this on.”
She caught the garment in the air. The whites of her eyes were evident around her pupils as she clutched the shirt tight, passing her tongue between her lips at the sight of his chest. Her wandering gaze was a palpable caress, feathering across his shoulders, pecs, abdomen, setting his skin on fire.
“Put it on,” he said softly.
Gnawing her lower lip, she briskly set his shirt aside and studied the basket contents once more. Her outstretched arm shook. “But now I can see your nipples.”
“And?”
Her cheeks flared with color. “And I think you’re the sexiest thing walking the planet.”
Shock, sudden and total, made it difficult to speak. “No,” he said, dumbfounded. “No, no, that would be you.”
Her lashes dropped as though it pained her to listen, and she made a little sound in her throat. Zach could feel a groan surge up his chest, more like a growl, a howl of hunger.
And then her fingers delved into the basket, and Zach felt like she was carving into his heart. “There’s raspberry, too.”
Her hand trembled, her voice trembled. He trembled.
Hoarsely, his voice thick with the arousal flaring through his body, he reached for his weapons and set them on the chair he’d occupied, murmuring, “Pick one.”
“Me?” Flustered, Paige kept investigating the basket, the color rising up her throat. “But . . . you’re the one who’s supposed to wear it.”
The thought of him sliding something on, sliding inside her, nearly drove him to his knees. “Pick one . . . for me.” For my cock. For me to make love to you until morning.
He didn’t know what she would do, didn’t know what he was doing, only knew his heart was pounding in his chest, his groin, his head.
She lifted a foil packet. Thrust out her chin. Her throat worked, but for a moment, no words came. “This one? A . . . natural one.” Her timid smile was like a kick in the heart, familiar and heart-wrenching, and the thought that she could be playing around knocked him cold.
“Don’t tease me.”
Her smile faded. “I’m not— not teasing.” She stared into his e
yes, her little tongue darting out to moisten her lips. “Please don’t tease me, either.”
“God, no, never.”
And then he couldn’t take it, couldn’t take the look in her eyes, couldn’t take her nearness. He started for her. “Make love with me.”
It was a plea.
Jolting in surprise, she backed away, around the bed, and Zach followed. “Put me out of my misery.” His voice hoarsened even more. “I want you. I’ve wanted you every day. I’ve been with you a thousand times in my mind. Every night, every single night, in my bed, I make you mine.”