Read Online The Bachelor's Baby (Bachelor Auction Book 3) by Dani Collins - Free Book Online
Authors: Dani Collins
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faded bronze. He was really well built, honed and not manscaped into boyhood.
He detoured to flick off the track lighting in the kitchen, leaving only the small bulb over the sink to light his way back to the bed. The flames in the fireplace cast moody shadows on the half-finished room.
She pulled the sheet up to her breasts as he approached, breath held, waiting for him to lead because he did this all the time and she didn’t know what was supposed to happen next.
“Do you want to go home?”
His gruff words made her flinch. Of course that’s what would happen now, but she had thought… Don’t think, Meg. Get dressed . That meant getting out of bed and revealing herself, though.
“I—Of course. I—”
“I don’t mean I want you to go,” he said in that same gruff voice, catching the edge of the sheet and dragging it half off of her as he slid under it and settled onto his back. His knuckles brushed a tickling caress against her upper arm. “You just looked like you wanted to.” He cleared his throat. “But I’d rather you stayed a while.”
Maybe that was his post-sex voice.
“C’mere,” he invited, lifting his arm to make a space beside him.
“You cuddle?” She slid down on the bed, more for the cover of the blankets than anything, and let him pull her into his cooled skin.
“I prefer to think of it as after-play with potential, but sure.”
She smiled as she settled her head on his smooth golden shoulder and both his arms came around her. They both warmed.
“You were sitting here thinking, if that jerk thinks I’m leaving without that drink he promised… Weren’t you?”
“Mmm, yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” she lied, relaxing.
“What was it really?” he asked as the silence stretched. “Because I thought this was really good. If I read you wrong—?”
“No!” She had to laugh a little at that. And be grateful she could hide her discomfiture by bringing the wrinkled edge of the sheet up to her chin and keep her gaze on where their bodies were a tangled pile beneath the covers. “I was thinking this is strange,” she prevaricated. “To be intimate with someone I don’t really know.”
He didn’t say anything and she found herself itching to smooth the dusting of chest hairs in front of her eyes so they were all flattened in the same direction.
“I see the appeal though,” she admitted. “You don’t have to be anyone but who you really are.”
He shifted and touched her chin, urging her to tilt her face so he could see her. His expression was relaxed, but circumspect. “That sounds odd. Who do you usually pretend to be?”
“I don’t pretend to be anyone,” she said, ducking her head again. “I just—” What the hell, she thought . True colors . “I meant that you can just be natural. I always struggle with that. I’m adopted and knowing that has always made me wonder how much of my thoughts and reactions are hardwired from my birth parents and how much comes from where and how I was raised. If I have a disagreement with a man, I’m never sure if it’s a male-female thing or a genuine personality conflict. I tried to be the real me when I started working, using my birth name, but that wound up feeling like an on-air personality, kind of manufactured and fake. When I’m in a relationship, I’m always conscious of every word or action, wondering what characteristic or part of me might become the thing that makes or breaks us.”
“Sounds like you put a lot of pressure on yourself.” His fingers picked up her hair in a soothing, rhythmic comb. “I’m getting the real Meg, though?”
“I think it’s fairly obvious I wasn’t holding anything back, isn’t it?” she grumbled, cheeks hot and nose burrowing into the sheets. The covers smelled like laundry soap and him. Maybe a bit of them together. It was potent and sexy.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” he said, closing his arms tighter as he rolled into her and used his leg to pull
He detoured to flick off the track lighting in the kitchen, leaving only the small bulb over the sink to light his way back to the bed. The flames in the fireplace cast moody shadows on the half-finished room.
She pulled the sheet up to her breasts as he approached, breath held, waiting for him to lead because he did this all the time and she didn’t know what was supposed to happen next.
“Do you want to go home?”
His gruff words made her flinch. Of course that’s what would happen now, but she had thought… Don’t think, Meg. Get dressed . That meant getting out of bed and revealing herself, though.
“I—Of course. I—”
“I don’t mean I want you to go,” he said in that same gruff voice, catching the edge of the sheet and dragging it half off of her as he slid under it and settled onto his back. His knuckles brushed a tickling caress against her upper arm. “You just looked like you wanted to.” He cleared his throat. “But I’d rather you stayed a while.”
Maybe that was his post-sex voice.
“C’mere,” he invited, lifting his arm to make a space beside him.
“You cuddle?” She slid down on the bed, more for the cover of the blankets than anything, and let him pull her into his cooled skin.
“I prefer to think of it as after-play with potential, but sure.”
She smiled as she settled her head on his smooth golden shoulder and both his arms came around her. They both warmed.
“You were sitting here thinking, if that jerk thinks I’m leaving without that drink he promised… Weren’t you?”
“Mmm, yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” she lied, relaxing.
“What was it really?” he asked as the silence stretched. “Because I thought this was really good. If I read you wrong—?”
“No!” She had to laugh a little at that. And be grateful she could hide her discomfiture by bringing the wrinkled edge of the sheet up to her chin and keep her gaze on where their bodies were a tangled pile beneath the covers. “I was thinking this is strange,” she prevaricated. “To be intimate with someone I don’t really know.”
He didn’t say anything and she found herself itching to smooth the dusting of chest hairs in front of her eyes so they were all flattened in the same direction.
“I see the appeal though,” she admitted. “You don’t have to be anyone but who you really are.”
He shifted and touched her chin, urging her to tilt her face so he could see her. His expression was relaxed, but circumspect. “That sounds odd. Who do you usually pretend to be?”
“I don’t pretend to be anyone,” she said, ducking her head again. “I just—” What the hell, she thought . True colors . “I meant that you can just be natural. I always struggle with that. I’m adopted and knowing that has always made me wonder how much of my thoughts and reactions are hardwired from my birth parents and how much comes from where and how I was raised. If I have a disagreement with a man, I’m never sure if it’s a male-female thing or a genuine personality conflict. I tried to be the real me when I started working, using my birth name, but that wound up feeling like an on-air personality, kind of manufactured and fake. When I’m in a relationship, I’m always conscious of every word or action, wondering what characteristic or part of me might become the thing that makes or breaks us.”
“Sounds like you put a lot of pressure on yourself.” His fingers picked up her hair in a soothing, rhythmic comb. “I’m getting the real Meg, though?”
“I think it’s fairly obvious I wasn’t holding anything back, isn’t it?” she grumbled, cheeks hot and nose burrowing into the sheets. The covers smelled like laundry soap and him. Maybe a bit of them together. It was potent and sexy.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” he said, closing his arms tighter as he rolled into her and used his leg to pull
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