After he disappeared, Jen leaned back in the recliner and stared up at the ceiling. Her grin faded, her muscles knotting with frustration. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that Cash possessed a disgusting amount of willpower. She’d brought her A-game to the table the past couple of days, yet the infuriating man continued to resist her advances. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or impressed.
Still, enough was enough. She wanted Cash McCoy so badly she couldn’t think straight. Everything about him turned her on—his drool-worthy body, those intense blue eyes, the heady scent of his aftershave.
That old saying about wanting what you can’t have had become her life’s theme song. She craved Cash on a whole new level now, and the more he resisted, the more attracted to him she was. Sad, really.
“You hungry?” Cash asked when he reappeared ten minutes later.
“Not really. I’m still full from breakfast.”
“Good, because I’m too beat to deal with food right now.” With his hair damp from the shower, he crossed the room and collapsed on the couch, stretching out on his back. A groan slipped out as he closed his eyes. “My head is killing me.”
A spark of worry lit her belly. “Maybe you do have heatstroke.” She hopped off the chair and approached the couch.
Cash’s eyes flew open when she touched his cheeks. “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
She frowned. “Your skin’s hot to the touch. Did you replenish your fluids?”
His eyelids fluttered closed again. “Chugged half a bottle of water when we finished up,” he mumbled.
“How strenuous of a workout?”
“Ran four miles. Swam a couple miles. Push-ups, crunches, some other stuff.”
Jen shot him an incredulous look, even though he couldn’t see it. “You did all that, in the sun, in ninety-two-degree weather, and you only drank half a bottle of water?”
“I was distracted,” he muttered.
She grumbled in frustration and flew toward the kitchen, where she grabbed two Evians from the fridge. Returning to the couch, she uncapped one bottle and thrust it at Cash. “Drink,” she ordered.
He slid up, took the bottle, and drained it. “Can I take a nap now?” he asked wearily.
“Only if you don’t complain when I wake you up to drink this second bottle.”
“I won’t complain,” he said obediently.
“How’s your head?”
“Throbbing.”
Jen shoved her hands underneath his wide shoulders. “Scoot up.”
His gaze darkened with suspicion. “Why?”
“I can help.”
After a moment of visible reluctance, he raised himself up. Jen wedged her body on the couch, settled into a cross-legged position and pulled Cash’s damp head into her lap. That he didn’t protest at the close contact told her that his headache must be worse than he was letting on.
“Close your eyes,” she murmured.
He did, and his features relaxed as she lowered her thumbs to his temples. Drawing her brows together in concentration, she massaged his temples in a circular motion, keeping the pressure steady.
Cash groaned huskily. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“I got a lot of headaches when I was younger. My mom’s a nurse, so she knew all sorts of tricks to get rid of the pain. She gives the best temple massages,” Jen confessed. “She taught me how to do them.”
When she used her fingertips to stroke the area between his eyebrows and hairline, slowly rubbing his hot skin, he groaned again. “She taught you well. That feels fantastic.”
She made small circles between his brows, gently pressing down, then massaged from his temples to the strong line of his jawbone. With his eyes closed, she was able to admire every inch of his gorgeous face. The sharp jut of his cheekbones. His surprisingly long eyelashes. The tiny scar nicking the corner of his jaw.
She knew he’d fallen asleep when his breathing steadied and his bottom lip dropped out in a sexy pout. She kept massaging, watched the rise and fall of his spectacular chest. His skin felt cooler to the touch, but she only allowed him a twenty-minute catnap before reluctantly waking him up.
“Drink,” she said after she’d coaxed his eyes open.
His answering moan was seriously endearing, but he didn’t resist when she brought the bottle to his lips. He drank greedily, then lolled his head to the side and snuggled into her thigh.
Jen couldn’t fight the rush of heat that sizzled through her. She wore only a tank top and a pair of cotton boxers, and the way Cash’s whiskers scraped against her bare thigh brought goose bumps to her skin. And his head kept rubbing over her mound as he tried to get comfortable again, which made it pretty damn impossible not to get turned on.
As she ran her fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, sexual excitement pricked her flesh, making every inch of her burn. Her nipples beaded, pushed into the lacy material of her bra. Her pussy ached, throbbing in tune to the persistent beating of her heart. Lord, she wanted this man.
Frustration seized her insides. Damn her brother for ordering Cash to keep his hands off her.
Her fingers froze in Cash’s hair as a thought dawned on her. Now wait a minute… Carson might have tied Cash’s hands, but he hadn’t tied hers.