Emma knew a few things about Sean Kowalski. She knew he was tall and outrageously handsome and liked salt-and-vinegar potato chips. She knew he had a body designed to trigger female double-takes everywhere he went. She knew he’d served his country, wasn’t afraid of a day’s work, loved his family, played with his cousins’ children and was, no doubt though she hadn’t seen it yet, kind to animals.
What she hadn’t known was how much impact seeing him stretch out on her bed and tuck his hands under his head would have on her. And she certainly hadn’t anticipated the heat that curled through her body and settled in a place she’d been neglecting for a while.
“A little soft,” he said, squirming against the mattress in a way that made her hips want to wiggle along for the ride. “I like it harder.”
Emma coughed to cover the little squeaking sound she made, as if announcing her hormones’ state of libidinous distress. “I like to nestle.”
“It’s a girly bed.”
Not with him sprawled across it, it wasn’t. “I’m a girl.”
“I noticed.” When he turned his head and winked at her, she swallowed hard and glanced at her watch in what she hoped was an obvious gesture. She just wanted him off her bed.
Which wasn’t going to help, of course, because he was going to be sleeping in that bed for the next month. And she’d be about ten feet away, tossing and turning on the couch. Great plan. Inspired, really.
“Time to go?” he asked.
“Yeah.” They’d done everything they could. What little he owned had been moved in. The biography of Ulysses S. Grant he was reading was tossed on the coffee table in the living room. A battered and oversized coffee mug emblazoned with the army logo was upside down next to her favorite mug in the dish rack. She’d found it at the Salvation Army store, along with a few other things that might help give the illusion he’d been living there for a year. It was show time.
“Okay. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”
“Wait. You’re going, too?”
He snorted and swung his feet to the floor. “Of course I’m going with you to pick up your grandmother at the airport. What kind of jerk did you think you were marrying?”
“This is insane.”
“Pretty sure I already told you that.” His eyes grew serious. “This is your last chance, you know. I can be out of here in a half hour. You can still tell her we broke up and you must not have loved me as much as you thought because you’re not all broken up about it. She’ll be so thankful you came to your senses before marrying me, she won’t even ask too many questions.”
She knew he was right. It was insane. And this was her last chance to back out. Once she introduced him to Gram at the airport, they were all in. For a month.
Then she shook her head. “No. We can do this and then Gram’s mind will be at ease and she can finally enjoy her retirement so I can move on with my life.”
Sean walked over to her, so close she wondered if he was going to try to shake some sense into her. “Then there’s just one more thing to do.”
“Oh, crap. What did I forget?” Considering how much time she’d spent going over everything in her mind instead of sleeping, she couldn’t imagine what it would be.
When he rested his hand at her waist for a few seconds before sliding it around to the small of her back, she felt her muscles tense and her cheeks burn.
“You can’t be doing that,” he said in the same low, husky kind of voice a man would use to tell a woman he wanted to take off her clothes.
Her mind was frozen, all of her attention on that warm pressure against her T-shirt, and it took a few seconds to form a coherent sentence. “Doing what?”
“You’re as jumpy as a virgin at a frat party.” He ran his fingers up over her spine until he reached the small bump of her bra strap, and then back down to her waist. “We’ve been dating a year and a half, and living together for a year of it, but you still blush and tense up when I touch you?”
He had a point, but there was no way to fix that before Gram got off her plane. “Maybe you’re just that good.”
It was the wrong thing to say if she was trying to back him off and settle her overheating nerves. The grin he gave her would have been potent enough to get her out of her clothes if the situation was different.
“That’s a story I can get behind,” he said.
“Thought we were trying to keep the lies to a minimum.”
The grin only widened. “Who says it’s a lie?”
She rolled her eyes and tried to step back—really needing to put a little space between them—but he held her close. “We’re going to be late.”
“No, we’re not. But don’t you think we should at least have a practice kiss first?”
Almost against her will, her gaze focused on his mouth. Yes. Yes, they should. “If Gram asked I was going to tell her you have a thing about public displays of affection.”
“This isn’t public. This is your—our—home.”
“Public as in with an audience.” She needed to look away from his mouth, especially since it was getting closer, but she couldn’t.