It was only now that she could see just how worried Mom had been. And how right.
Lily hefted her suitcase onto the small console by the bedroom door and unzipped it, then stared down at the contents of the bag as though she were seeing them for the first time. It should have been obvious that this vacation was going to be a disaster when she’d packed as though going on a work trip instead of a fun getaway.
Until Jason, she had dated nice guys who, though they might not have been as sexually inspiring as, say, Bruno Komarov, were good people who cared about her and supported her dreams. Jason had been a break from that sweet, but boring, trend. He was tall and lean, with Nordic good looks and long-fingered artist’s hands. He rode a fast motorcycle—which she had later learned had been a gift from an ex-girlfriend whom he had treated just as badly as he’d treated Lily—and painted like a savage animal. She had fallen hard.
But even so, the sex hadn’t lived up to the attraction, and she had finally accepted that it was her problem.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed at her eyes. Massaging herself didn’t feel nearly as good as when Bruno did it, but she was so tense. A hot shower was definitely in order.
The image of her tiptoeing into the bathroom and slipping into the shower with him, kneeling down and taking him in her mouth, startled her.
She never fantasized about giving oral sex to a man. Every time she did it, it was only to please the guy she had been with and not herself. But something about Komarov made the very idea of having his hard shaft against her tongue the most desirable thing she could think of.
She imagined having his hand in her hair as she stroked him with her lips, how his balls would tighten and he would fight against climax so that he wouldn’t lose it in her mouth, but when he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d say—
“All yours.” His voice jerked her out of her naughty fantasy so fast that she jumped and yelped in guilty surprise.
She whipped around and yelped again, but this time at the real deal.
He was wearing only a towel.
She froze, unable to tear her gaze away from his body. His shoulders were smooth and broad, his biceps just the right size for a woman to clutch as he drove into her. His chest was lightly sprinkled with dark hair over his olive skin, which ran in a faint line down the middle of his stomach, bisecting the muscles that looked like they were cut into his skin, so well-defined were they. He held the towel in place with one large hand, his long, powerful fingers clutching it so tightly that his knuckles were going white, and just beneath that, the terry cloth was poking up and out, jutting toward her—
She clapped a hand to her mouth as her eyes flew to his.
He chuckled apologetically. “It happens when I get a thorough inspection like that,” he said casually, but the tension in his shoulders belied the indifference in his voice.
Rather belatedly, Lily whirled back around and faced her luggage.
“I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, directing her apology to the clothes packed in neat rolls.
He chuckled again and she heard his feet padding softly on the carpet, walking toward the door. “Don’t mention it. Really. The shower is all yours. I left my clothes hanging on the hook, but they shouldn’t be in your way. I’ll get them later.”
Her cheeks burned and she couldn’t look at him, could only nod, as he walked past her into the living room, pulling the door softly shut behind him.
Once he was out of sight, she let out a tense breath.
She felt like a na?ve little girl again. The same way he’d made her feel down in the lobby, when he’d questioned her decision about inviting him to stay with her. But he hadn’t made any moves on her, and he’d actually told her not to mention it just now when she’d apologized for being forward enough to turn him on.
Which probably meant that he preferred to keep things mostly business-like, and that moment between them, and his erection as he left the living room earlier, just represented an inconvenient aberration.
A magnificent, large, thrusting aberration…
She flexed her fingers, trying to make herself move. It was no use thinking that way about him. The clock was ticking, and she wasn’t about to get involved with a man for just one night. Especially when she knew only the barest of facts about him.
But as she gathered her clothes and toiletries, it occurred to her that what she had told him earlier in the lobby—that she knew more about him than he realized—was true.
He was a good man, and she could trust him. She knew it.
Lily stepped into the bathroom and cocked her head. Something was off about it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She shut and locked the door, coming face-to-face with Komarov’s lavender shirt hanging from the hook on the back of the door.