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Authors: Talia Quinn
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started yawning. Then he simply, wordlessly, shut it down, set it on the table, and headed off to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Darcy stared after him in dismay. That wasn’t his bedroom. It was just as much hers. Or, well, it might be. They should have at least discussed it.
And no, the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the fact that it was night, and that reminded her all too vividly of last night, and that—well, that was insanity was what it was. Because sex with him led absolutely nowhere. He’d probably toss her if she suggested it.
Not that she was tempted. But if she had been…
Great, now she had a throbbing ache between her thighs, her stupid body betraying her. He was hot, no question, and sex last night had been incandescent. Insane but wildly passionate. But he was the enemy, and one did not fraternize with the enemy.
She grabbed an oversized shirt out of the suitcase she’d stashed behind the couch and headed to the bathroom with her toiletries kit. Yawning, she opened the bathroom door, the one from the living room—
And got a surprise. Which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. People getting ready for bed usually shed most of their clothes before brushing their teeth and such. But still. He was in the bathroom. Squirting toothpaste onto a toothbrush. Half-naked. Not wearing a shirt. No pants either. Just a thin pair of boxers.
A different pair from this morning. These were plaid, with narrow yellow-and-black stripes running through thicker red ones. Thicker. That was a word she should probably banish from her mind right now. Because those thick muscular thighs, not to mention a thickening cock, visible in outline through the fabric, um, yeah.
Better not look. She raised her gaze to his face, which didn’t help at all. He was staring at her fixedly, and now she felt the heat of a blush on her face and shoulders, and a flood of sexual heat in her groin. Oh yes. Oh wow.
Oh no. No, no, no.
She backed up. “Sorry. I’ll wait. Go ahead and brush. I’ll just be out here. Waiting.”
She shut the door, then stood there like an idiot. A trembling, lustful idiot.
Sex last night was one thing. She’d been shocked. Beyond exhausted. Overwrought. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t a seduction or a planned, mutual let’s-act-on-this-attraction thing. It was more like a car crash. A slick, slippery, slam-into-each-other-wow-your-life-just-got-totaled kind of accident. Tonight, if it happened again—
But it wouldn’t. He would kick her out of bed in a heartbeat. Not that she’d let him. Because she wouldn’t be there. In his bed, touching that tanned skin, tracing her finger across the pale line of hair running down his abdomen to… Nope. She wouldn’t do that. No way. Absolutely not.
The bathroom door opened. Darcy was acutely aware of her still-flushed cheeks, her nipples still tightly aroused under her thin oversized T-shirt. She probably looked like she wanted to attack him.
Will nodded, a perfunctory gesture, hardly looking at her. “All yours. Don’t leave hair in the sink. Do you have a hand towel, at least?”
“Uh…”
He sighed. “You can borrow one of mine.” He disappeared through the other bathroom door, the one that led into the bedroom, then came back with a neatly folded forest-green towel set. Bath towel, hand towel, facecloth. He thrust them at her, again carefully not looking at her for more than a split second.
She took them, likewise trying not to gaze at the bulge in his boxers or the play of muscle along his taut abdomen. “Thanks. I’ll wash them before you move out.”
“Before you move out, you mean. Good night.” But a muscle in his eyelid twitched.
~*~
Will fled the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall as he let his breath out in a whoosh. Why did he have to be so turned on by this woman of all women? Why did she have
Darcy stared after him in dismay. That wasn’t his bedroom. It was just as much hers. Or, well, it might be. They should have at least discussed it.
And no, the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the fact that it was night, and that reminded her all too vividly of last night, and that—well, that was insanity was what it was. Because sex with him led absolutely nowhere. He’d probably toss her if she suggested it.
Not that she was tempted. But if she had been…
Great, now she had a throbbing ache between her thighs, her stupid body betraying her. He was hot, no question, and sex last night had been incandescent. Insane but wildly passionate. But he was the enemy, and one did not fraternize with the enemy.
She grabbed an oversized shirt out of the suitcase she’d stashed behind the couch and headed to the bathroom with her toiletries kit. Yawning, she opened the bathroom door, the one from the living room—
And got a surprise. Which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. People getting ready for bed usually shed most of their clothes before brushing their teeth and such. But still. He was in the bathroom. Squirting toothpaste onto a toothbrush. Half-naked. Not wearing a shirt. No pants either. Just a thin pair of boxers.
A different pair from this morning. These were plaid, with narrow yellow-and-black stripes running through thicker red ones. Thicker. That was a word she should probably banish from her mind right now. Because those thick muscular thighs, not to mention a thickening cock, visible in outline through the fabric, um, yeah.
Better not look. She raised her gaze to his face, which didn’t help at all. He was staring at her fixedly, and now she felt the heat of a blush on her face and shoulders, and a flood of sexual heat in her groin. Oh yes. Oh wow.
Oh no. No, no, no.
She backed up. “Sorry. I’ll wait. Go ahead and brush. I’ll just be out here. Waiting.”
She shut the door, then stood there like an idiot. A trembling, lustful idiot.
Sex last night was one thing. She’d been shocked. Beyond exhausted. Overwrought. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t a seduction or a planned, mutual let’s-act-on-this-attraction thing. It was more like a car crash. A slick, slippery, slam-into-each-other-wow-your-life-just-got-totaled kind of accident. Tonight, if it happened again—
But it wouldn’t. He would kick her out of bed in a heartbeat. Not that she’d let him. Because she wouldn’t be there. In his bed, touching that tanned skin, tracing her finger across the pale line of hair running down his abdomen to… Nope. She wouldn’t do that. No way. Absolutely not.
The bathroom door opened. Darcy was acutely aware of her still-flushed cheeks, her nipples still tightly aroused under her thin oversized T-shirt. She probably looked like she wanted to attack him.
Will nodded, a perfunctory gesture, hardly looking at her. “All yours. Don’t leave hair in the sink. Do you have a hand towel, at least?”
“Uh…”
He sighed. “You can borrow one of mine.” He disappeared through the other bathroom door, the one that led into the bedroom, then came back with a neatly folded forest-green towel set. Bath towel, hand towel, facecloth. He thrust them at her, again carefully not looking at her for more than a split second.
She took them, likewise trying not to gaze at the bulge in his boxers or the play of muscle along his taut abdomen. “Thanks. I’ll wash them before you move out.”
“Before you move out, you mean. Good night.” But a muscle in his eyelid twitched.
~*~
Will fled the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall as he let his breath out in a whoosh. Why did he have to be so turned on by this woman of all women? Why did she have
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