“That’s what you do to me sometimes.”
She bit her lip, like she’d regretted saying it.
His nerves prickled in heightened awareness. Her admission interested him. It gratified. He couldn’t help but smile in relief. He’d been worried she didn’t want him there. “Not all the time though,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. He’d caught her scent: sweet sweat and fragrant Eleanor. He was drawn like a bee to honey. Something caught and flamed in her pretty eyes.
“No,” she replied huskily. His head dipped toward her upturned face. “Not all the time.”
“There’s no reason for you to act skittish around me.”
“How do you know?” His smile twitched at the appearance of her frown.
“Because I’ve seen you naked and done outrageous things to you. You’ve been pretty outrageous in return,” he reminded her before he brushed his mouth against her soft, slightly pursed mouth. He tensed in excitement when she opened her lips.
“Trey? What did you come here for?”
He blinked, his trance broken slightly. Was she asking because she thought he’d come over here just to fall on her like a rutting animal? If she did, it was because she had precedent for thinking it.
“I came to ask if we could take that walk we missed out on last night,” he replied. He was being honest. That had been his only intention upon coming there. It had been until he’d seen her big eyes, and pigtails, and a T-shirt that hugged her beautiful bare breasts like a second skin, anyway. “I was hoping to take you to dinner.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied earnestly, thinking it was wise to release her hand and take a step back before he revealed his other, less admirable, motivations.
“But I need to shower,” she said, waving down at herself self-consciously.
“That’s okay, I’ll wait,” he said, picking up one of the glasses. He took a swallow of water to cool off. He needed it. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
She shook her head. This time, he was glad to read nothing but excitement brimming in her eyes.
“If you want anything to eat or drink, just—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” she promised, walking out of the kitchen.
“Take your time.”
—
“All set,” he heard her say ten or fifteen minutes later. He’d just wandered into her living room a minute ago. He turned from examining the contents of a bookshelf.
“You only read erotica, huh?” he asked her dryly, pointing at her large, diverse collection of books.
She grinned. “I told you I might have been exaggerating about that.”
His smile slowly faded as he took her in.
“What?” she asked, frowning.
She wore jeans, a dark green sweater, a scarf, a black overcoat and a pair of supple walking boots. Her long hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. She’d scrubbed her face of perspiration, but as far as he could tell, she wore little or no makeup. Nor did she wear any jewelry. She looked so fresh.
So lovely.
“I never know what to expect from you,” he said, walking to her. He stepped close. She looked up at him with those enormous, soulful eyes that had started to haunt both his sleep and waking moments. He smoothed back a stray curl at her temple. His fingers lingered, brushing the delicate, soft shell of her ear. He liked feeling her slight shiver at his touch.
“Is it . . . okay? How I’m dressed?” He blinked at the hesitance in her tone and focused on her face. He kissed her to erase the anxiety he read there, losing himself for a moment in her soft, responsive lips.
“Of course it’s okay,” he assured. “You look adorable.”