have turned her on, but it did. She heard herself giggle nervously, and was appalled. She was a giggler, she had to admit, but Rhett wasn’t the guy you giggled with. He wasn’t going to laugh back.
Nope. He definitely didn’t. He just kept walking, in the dark, through the kitchen and past the living room and down the hall, like he knew the house. “Don’t you want to turn a light on?” she asked. “I don’t want you to trip.”
“I’m fine.”
“My room is the . . .” Room he was already going into. “How do you know your way around my house?” she tittered. Now she was tittering. Good God. Next she’d be simpering.
“Common sense.”
Of course. It wasn’t like all ranches didn’t have about the same basic floor plan. Shawn said, “Just set me down next to the bed, thanks.”
But he didn’t. He deposited her on her bed, brushing her hair back off her cheek as he bent over her, his hip close to hers, warm breath rushing over her face. Shawn waited, teeth clenched and shoulders tense.
“Can I use the bathroom first? I just need five minutes,” he said.
Now that wasn’t what she was expecting him to say, but it made sense. He probably wanted to brush his teeth. Not that he had bad breath, because he didn’t. But he probably wanted to before bed, and he wanted to dig a condom out of his bag, sure he was going to get some. Which he wasn’t. She put a stop to her pointless panicky thoughts and managed a casual, “Sure.”
“I can find it myself.” He stood up, the air around her suddenly empty.
He went into the hallway, partially closing her door on the way out, which was courteous. Shawn lay on her bed, forcibly letting her body relax, one muscle group at a time.
He was coming back, wasn’t he?
An hour later, it was evident he was not. She’d heard the toilet flush and the sink run, then there had been silence. Nothing but silence.
She had kicked off her shoes and gotten under the covers, but she was still wide awake, waiting for him to creep into her room and hit on her, so she could tell him no. Which she now realized wasn’t going to happen. So eventually she found herself doing the creeping, climbing out of bed and down the hall to the living room to confirm what she knew—that he wasn’t coming into her room. There he was, fast asleep on the couch, in his jeans and no shirt, on his side, hands tucked under his cheek in a way that was pretty damn cute. The bare chest wasn’t cute, it was smoking hot. She cursed the fact that he’d left the light on by the back door, because otherwise she wouldn’t have seen what she was missing.
And Lordy be, wasn’t he cold? It was February after all.
Shawn took the USC afghan off the easy chair and slowly, carefully draped it over Rhett.
“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes closed.
She jumped. Shit, he was awake. Sort of. His breathing was even and steady, like he was already sliding back into sleep. Shawn stood there for a minute, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, so she went back to bed. Alone. And cursed herself to the ends of the earth for falling for another double-dog dare.
It was cold and lonely and very unsatisfying in her queen-size bed solo.
• • •
IT didn’t help when Rhett came in at seven in the morning, fully dressed, and gently shook her awake. “Shawn.”
“What?” she asked crossly, running on about zero sleep, her dreams plagued with erotic images of Rhett stroking her to orgasm, over and over.
“I have to go to work. I just called a cab. Are you going to be home later when I get back, or can you leave the door unlocked for me?”
Oh, my God. Details. More effing details. They were killing her. “I’ll be home.” Masturbating, apparently, since she was even hornier now than when she’d gone to bed. “And I can drive you to your car if you want. You’re going to need it, obviously.” Even though she would rather walk through a fire anthill naked, she would get up and drive him.
Nope. He definitely didn’t. He just kept walking, in the dark, through the kitchen and past the living room and down the hall, like he knew the house. “Don’t you want to turn a light on?” she asked. “I don’t want you to trip.”
“I’m fine.”
“My room is the . . .” Room he was already going into. “How do you know your way around my house?” she tittered. Now she was tittering. Good God. Next she’d be simpering.
“Common sense.”
Of course. It wasn’t like all ranches didn’t have about the same basic floor plan. Shawn said, “Just set me down next to the bed, thanks.”
But he didn’t. He deposited her on her bed, brushing her hair back off her cheek as he bent over her, his hip close to hers, warm breath rushing over her face. Shawn waited, teeth clenched and shoulders tense.
“Can I use the bathroom first? I just need five minutes,” he said.
Now that wasn’t what she was expecting him to say, but it made sense. He probably wanted to brush his teeth. Not that he had bad breath, because he didn’t. But he probably wanted to before bed, and he wanted to dig a condom out of his bag, sure he was going to get some. Which he wasn’t. She put a stop to her pointless panicky thoughts and managed a casual, “Sure.”
“I can find it myself.” He stood up, the air around her suddenly empty.
He went into the hallway, partially closing her door on the way out, which was courteous. Shawn lay on her bed, forcibly letting her body relax, one muscle group at a time.
He was coming back, wasn’t he?
An hour later, it was evident he was not. She’d heard the toilet flush and the sink run, then there had been silence. Nothing but silence.
She had kicked off her shoes and gotten under the covers, but she was still wide awake, waiting for him to creep into her room and hit on her, so she could tell him no. Which she now realized wasn’t going to happen. So eventually she found herself doing the creeping, climbing out of bed and down the hall to the living room to confirm what she knew—that he wasn’t coming into her room. There he was, fast asleep on the couch, in his jeans and no shirt, on his side, hands tucked under his cheek in a way that was pretty damn cute. The bare chest wasn’t cute, it was smoking hot. She cursed the fact that he’d left the light on by the back door, because otherwise she wouldn’t have seen what she was missing.
And Lordy be, wasn’t he cold? It was February after all.
Shawn took the USC afghan off the easy chair and slowly, carefully draped it over Rhett.
“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes closed.
She jumped. Shit, he was awake. Sort of. His breathing was even and steady, like he was already sliding back into sleep. Shawn stood there for a minute, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, so she went back to bed. Alone. And cursed herself to the ends of the earth for falling for another double-dog dare.
It was cold and lonely and very unsatisfying in her queen-size bed solo.
• • •
IT didn’t help when Rhett came in at seven in the morning, fully dressed, and gently shook her awake. “Shawn.”
“What?” she asked crossly, running on about zero sleep, her dreams plagued with erotic images of Rhett stroking her to orgasm, over and over.
“I have to go to work. I just called a cab. Are you going to be home later when I get back, or can you leave the door unlocked for me?”
Oh, my God. Details. More effing details. They were killing her. “I’ll be home.” Masturbating, apparently, since she was even hornier now than when she’d gone to bed. “And I can drive you to your car if you want. You’re going to need it, obviously.” Even though she would rather walk through a fire anthill naked, she would get up and drive him.
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