Yeah, she had it bad, and it was going to get worse before this night was over. Of that she had no doubt. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she fumbled with the buttons, managing to button the shirt wrong the first time.
In the cabinet, she looked for a toothbrush and encountered an economy-sized box of condoms. And yes, she checked to see if it was opened—it wasn’t. As she put it back on the shelf, she noticed the size: extra large. She took a moment to daydream about Gavin Guthrie’s extra-large—
Oh, for God’s sake! Did she really need to know what size condoms he bought? It wasn’t bad information to have. But why the big box? Who was he planning to get busy with?
“Toothbrush, Ella,” she muttered, aggravated with herself and now him, too, because she couldn’t very well go out there and ask him who he’d bought all those condoms for. She found an unopened toothbrush and used his Colgate-with-whitening toothpaste. No wonder his smile was so perfect, and yes, she was being ridiculous glomming on to these little details the way a stalker would.
And then she spotted a bottle of cologne on the counter, and being only human, she had to take a good long sniff and then sigh with the pleasure. Gucci Black. Sigh . . . Here was the essence of Gavin in a bottle. Put it down, walk away, brush your teeth and stop acting like a freak!
Ella hated when common sense interrupted her daydreaming. She brushed her teeth and used his brush on her hair, trying not to think about her hair intermingling with his on the brush because that would be weird.
Then she took a long look in the mirror, summoning the calm control she needed to get through this night with him. Wouldn’t it be something if she’d waited all this time for a chance with him only to blow it by acting like a lovesick freak? What if he caught her sniffing his cologne? Or worse, his shirt?
Stop! Just stop it and be normal. Except she had no idea how to “be normal” when Gavin Guthrie was in the room, let alone next to her in a bed. She was never going to survive sleeping with him.
She emerged from the bathroom to discover a whole new challenge. Gavin had removed his T-shirt and sweats and was sitting on the bed wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Holy hell. And she was supposed to act normal in the face of his insane hotness?
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, brushing by her. “I’ll be right out.”
If he looked in the cabinet, he would know she’d seen the huge box of condoms that were in front of the toothbrushes. What did it matter if she’d seen them? It wasn’t like they were going to need them. Or were they? What did he think was going to happen here tonight? What if he came out of the bathroom with the box in hand, prepared to get down and dirty?
Before she could do something ridiculous like pass out on the floor of his bedroom by failing to breathe, she got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She couldn’t be lying there like a mummy when he came out, so she turned on her side and confronted that yummy scent all over again on his pillow. Wait! Was this his side of the bed? Should she be on the other side?
“Oh my God, Ella, calm the hell down before you have a stroke.” Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine the story I could tell . . . On my first night with Gavin, after years of lusting after him, I stroked out from the thought of sharing a bed with him, so he had to take me to the emergency room where we spent a very romantic evening with me attached to IV poles.
The soft flannel of his shirt abraded her nipples, which were apparently standing at full alert, aware that something monumental was about to happen. By the time Gavin emerged from the bathroom, shut off the light and slid into bed next to her, Ella was on the verge of a full-on thermonuclear meltdown.