She let out a deep breath. That was a question she’d asked herself every day since. “Wrap a towel around yourself then.”
“No need. I’m all dried off. What’s the big deal? You’ve seen my junk before.” He had the nerve to chuckle.
Yes, she’d seen it that night in Abilene and had tried ever since to avoid seeing it. Because he had nice junk. Very nice junk.
“But I wasn’t sleeping next to it. In the same bed.” The wallpaper repeated the curlicue pattern every foot or so.
“I’m under the covers. You can turn around.”
She turned around and there he was, bare chested, a thin sheet barely covering the lower half of his body, with a wide, mischievous grin covering his face. Lordy. It was like finding a fantasy man in your bed—all muscle and sinew.
“I’d be fine if you decided to go to bed nude.” His grin turned cocky.
“Not happening.” Though she was wearing a baggy T-shirt, a memento from one of their rodeos, she still felt overexposed looking into those smoldering, coal-dark eyes of his.
She lifted the covers, careful not to disturb the sheet covering his body, and slid into bed. Tucking the blankets around her, she hoped to create some barrier between them. Unfortunately, there was no barrier that could prevent the pheromones wrapping around her. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt warm, very warm. So warm she wanted to throw the covers right off her.
This was such a bad idea. She couldn’t have chosen a better way to torture herself. She closed her eyes, felt a movement on the bed, and opened them only to stare right into his handsome face and those dark eyes. He’d rolled next to her, propping his head on his hand. Gratefully, the sheet still covered the essentials, but that left a lot of flesh and muscle still exposed. Rippling muscle. Tanned flesh. Heaven help her.
“I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Mandy Martin, but you needn’t be. We have an end date, clear terms, and, evidently, your grandfather’s consent. I say let’s go for it.”
That’s what scared her. This was merely a distraction for him. She wasn’t sure what it would be for her.
“I’m not interested.” Her voice sounded thin, reedy, and unconvincing.
He slid up, almost relieving the sheet of its duty. At the last minute he tugged it up, but not before she caught a glimpse.
Every night of their trip, in the intimacy of their hotel room, he’d told her he wanted her. She’d had other men tell her they wanted to have sex with her. But they weren’t men she’d once fallen in love with. They weren’t men who were willing to steal her company. They weren’t men who might also steal her heart.
He stroked his finger down her cheek, sending a little tremor through her. “I can get you interested.” His breath puffed against her cheek, and her belly tingled.
She turned her face toward him, realizing too late the mistake she made as he gently cupped her chin. The kiss started sweet but quickly turned hot, very hot. His slick tongue stroked hers, cracking her pitiful attempt at resistance. She wanted him. And he knew it. His passion sent an earthquake-worthy tremor through her and she hung on. Sliding her hands up his neck, she burrowed her fingers in his hair and held him so she could feast on his mouth. He tasted good. He kissed even better.
She felt his warm hand slip under the hem of her T-shirt and slide up her cool flesh to her breast while he pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth. A moan escaped from somewhere in her throat. Her nipples peaked, and her mind turned fuzzy. He kissed her like he was going to devour her, and she wanted to be devoured.
It would just be sex. Just mindless sex. No one would know.
The word liar popped into her head. She was lying. To herself. It would never be just sex with Ty. For reasons that at the moment eluded her, he meant something more to her, however mistaken those feelings were. However much she didn’t want to own up to them.
It took more willpower than she thought she possessed, but she pulled back. He stared at her through lowered lids, regret in his eyes.
“No,” she managed to say.
“It’s gonna happen sometime. And soon. You can take that to the bank,” he said, his voice husky and his smile assured.
Chapter 11
The following morning, she called Libby and Cat to squeeze in coffee at the café before the dreaded late-morning flight to the Washington rodeo. She hoped Cat and Libby had some good advice to strengthen her quickly fading resolve, because she surely didn’t know what to do.