“All right. Thanks,” she said and started down the hall. “I’ll be out in a few.”
In the bedroom, his scent, a mix between his cinnamon gum and the spicy musk unique to him, infused the air. His practical style showed in the no-frills, dark red comforter spread neatly on the king-sized bed. His dresser matched the solid oak of his headboard and he kept his clothes in the wide drawers in no discernible order that she could see, with jeans and T-shirts intermixed with socks and underwear. But, hey, at least he took the time to fold them, which was more than Preston had ever done.
Shit. She didn’t want to think about Preston or his plea for a second chance.
Moving fast, she gathered some clothes from the top drawer and scooted into the bathroom, which looked as much like Cam as his bedroom. His scent was stronger in here. A white sink marbled with gray rested on a black cabinet in the center of the room. On the wall over the sink hung a mirror framed in the same black painted wood, and his shaving gear lined the counter underneath it in a tidy row. A nearly full bottle of her favorite brand of hair gel still sat in the exact same spot she’d left it after the last time she’d crashed here. She never thought about it before, but it was sweet of him to buy the gel and the other essentials—disposable razors, deodorant, and even a box of tampons—that he kept under the sink for her.
Before starting the water in the glass-enclosed shower, she used the privacy of the bathroom to call the office, silently hoping they’d need her to come in. No such luck. The duty officer said they were working with a skeleton crew until the storm passed and suggested she “stay home and stay warm.”
Well, she’d have no problem staying warm around Cam. She could barely look at him now without heat rushing over her skin and gathering in the center of her belly.
So she tried her sister again, hoping Shelby had managed to find trouble in the short span since she left the house and she’d have to go home and sort it out. And, again, she was S.O.L. Shelby reported that Preston hadn’t stuck around, and she and Poe were snuggled in together for a Japanese monster movie marathon.
She ended the call with Shelby, then leaned on the counter and hung her head over the sink in defeat. Tonight was going to be a very, very long night.
Chapter Eleven
Cam popped to his feet as soon as he heard the bathroom door click shut, and did laps around his couch, trying to burn off all the energy vibrating in him. He ached so fiercely to have her again, his muscles trembled from the massive amount of control it had taken to stay seated and appear nonthreatening. Heat licked along every nerve ending in his body, leaving him as jittery as an addict jonesing for a hit. He needed a release, preferably one while buried balls-deep inside Eva’s hot sex.
And she was in his bathroom right now, stripping off her clothes…
With a string of curses, Cam stopped moving in front of the gas fireplace. He flattened his hands on the mantel and squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the wood. Had to block out the image of her naked with…something—any-damn-thing else. Baseball. Golf. Yeah, ‘cause those two distractions had worked out so well for him in the past. Or the freaking weather. Or maybe the fact that Soup’s death sure as hell hadn’t been a drug overdose. That should be front and center on his list of concerns, and yet, his mind insisted on torturing him with images of Eva laying on a white bedspread, her hair a cloud of dark silk around her head as he stripped off her red dress… All that bare caramel skin exposed to his mouth and hands…
No, goddammit. He couldn’t think about her like that. Obviously their night together had freaked her out, and if he ever wanted a shot at getting her back in his bed, he had to take it slow. Bide his time, give her the opportunity to adjust to the new circumstances of their relationship. He just had to control his body’s response around her. Which, going by the massive hard-on he was sporting, was not going to be easy.
Vaughn’s bathroom was open. He could run through a quick shower in there with no worries that he’d use any of Eva’s hot water because he wanted cold, cold, and colder. Hell, he might even have to go streaking through the storm to douse his need. If he shriveled his boys up far enough, he wouldn’t see them again until spring, and he’d be able to face her again like nothing had changed.
And, bright side, they’d only be alone together for a little while. Despite the bad weather, Vaughn would be home at some point—his Hummer laughed in the face of blizzards—and he’d act as a nice damper to the sexual tension. A kind of built-in cockblock.