I blew out a long, hot breath and then gripped the sides of my head. His stark, sexual words sent my entire body into a raging frenzy. Just hearing him say those things conjured images I’d never be able to dispel. Ever. And knowing that he’d been having his own lustful thoughts only made mine all the more potent.
“Holy shit, Dakota. What are you doing?”
Playing with fire. That’s what.
I didn’t think I’d been trying to seduce him. After all, we were talking about me. But maybe he was right; I wanted him to want me. And it didn’t matter what my brain said, the pull he had over my body was ten times more powerful.
I needed to get a grip.
The hot shower worked miracles on my mental composure. Having clean hair and freshly shaved legs—hoped he didn’t mind me borrowing his razor—almost made me feel new again. I toweled off, slipped on fresh panties and another of Paolo’s tee. It smelled like cedar and Tide. I tried to ignore how charming and domesticated that seemed.
I peeked out the bathroom door, and not seeing my ghost in question, I figured I could slip into bed without any issue. But when I entered the bedroom, he was there putting something in the closet.
“Oh, sorry,” I turned away to find something to cover myself with, leaving my ass on display. Fact: Dakota Dane only owned thongs. Fact: They weren’t nearly as comfortable as bikinis or boy shorts. Fiction: My ego was above wearing extra-large panties despite having no one to show my panties to.
“Dakota.”
“Are you looking at my ass?” I said jokingly, trying to hide behind humor when the reality was that having his eyes on me felt so good.
“Yes. Yes I am,” he replied. “And if you don’t want me to get killed, you’d do me a favor and put that thing away.”
I nodded slowly and then faced him. His hungry eyes met mine, and though my mind knew this would go nowhere, I couldn’t help but want it.
“You’re so,” he whispered, “beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman.”
I didn’t know what to say. His words were like fuel for that insane part of my head that wanted him despite the wrongness.
No. You’re reacting to the stress of the situation. Don’t do it, Dakota.
Shut up.
I slid the towel off my hair and walked over to him, leaving only inches between our bodies. “What you said earlier…about blowing off steam. I thought you said you didn’t want to sleep with me.”
Towering over me, he placed his hands on my waist and gazed down with that magnificent, masculine face. Jaw, cheekbones, nose…every inch of him was perfect. And in the short period of time we’d spent together, I was beginning to see he was more than just a pretty picture. There was a deep sense of loyalty and dedication lurking in there. The question was, did he feel those things for me or for my father?
“I never said I didn’t want to,” he responded in a gravelly voice. “I said I wouldn’t.”
“That’s very disappointing,” I said. “Because I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have for my first time.”
I can’t believe I said that! How…cheesy! And where had my sudden burst of “seductressness” come from?
His eyes flickered. Was he shocked? Disgusted? Turned on? “How much wine did you drink?” he asked.
“Not nearly enough.” Especially if he took me up on my offer. I’d touched him this morning and now felt his penis pressing firmly against my stomach. He wasn’t small.
“Dakota,” he lowered his forehead to mine and cupped the back of my head. “You don’t want this. I don’t do relationships. And there’s a reason for that. It’s too…dangerous.”
I pulled back. “You’re really that frightened of my father?”
He shook his head slowly, not breaking our eye contact. “No. He doesn’t frighten me.”
“Then what?”
His eyes flashed to the dresser, and my mind connected another dot.
Christ. “Who is she?” I asked.
“She died a year before I met you.”
I stepped back. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the past. But we are bound to repeat it if we don’t learn from our mistakes.” His hands dropped to his side.
What mistake did he mean? “You can’t think that loving someone is a mistake.”
Again, he seemed surprised. “No. I…I don’t think loving her was a mistake. But I won’t watch someone die because she loved me back.”
So he’d had something to do with her death? I was about to ask, but the despair in his eyes was too much to bear. I could tell he wasn’t even close to getting over whatever had happened. Perhaps, it was the sort of thing no one ever got over. I didn’t know, and I never wanted to find out.
“I’m sure she didn’t regret a moment of it,” I offered. “I know I wouldn’t.”