Page 47 of The Path to Loving Him
He lifts up only slightly to take in my silk robe and wet hair. He then brings his attention back to the table. “Glad to hear it.”
Ooof, something must be really bothering him.
“Is there something troubling you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers, surprising me. I half expected him to be like everything is fucking great and encourage me to be on my merry way.
“Oh, uh, want to talk about it? Maybe share a beer?” Not sure where that suggestion came from. What if he says yes? Do I really share a beer?
“I don’t drink when I’m in charge of Mac,” he grumbles.
“Not even one?”
He leans back in his chair now, and I feel his eyes scan my body before they meet my face. “Not even one.” His legs are spread, his forearms casually draped on his thighs in front of him, his chin ever so slightly tilted upward. It’s the kind of pose that screams don’t fuck with me because he’s ready to fight. And I hate that I find it incredibly attractive.
“Okay . . . then do you want to chat about it?”
“Not really,” he says as his eyes drop to the slit in my robe.
My body heats up as I feel the intense gaze of those sultry eyes scanning every last inch of my lotioned-up leg.
Swallowing, I ask, “Are you sure? You look distraught.”
He pushes away from the table and stands, his eyes remaining on me.
Oh God . . .
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says as he starts walking toward me.
What’s he going to do?
My heart hammers in my chest with every step, the tension in his shoulders stiffening his body, giving him the kind of swagger no man should ever have.
But that’s how it’s been with every interaction.
This push and pull between us.
Right now, it’s a whole lot of pull.
“Okay.” As he approaches, it’s hard not to stare at the way his shirt clings to his broad chest or imagine what the scruff on his jaw would feel like between my legs again. I’ve felt it before, and I’d love to feel it tonight despite my brain telling me it’s a bad idea.
When he reaches me, he pauses and leans close. “You smell fucking amazing.” Then he moves past me, his shoulder rubbing against mine as he makes his way into the bathroom and turns off the fan.
I’m humming.
My entire body went from relaxed from the showerhead to now overheated and needy.
It’s time to bolt before I do something stupid.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, then I guess I should head back.”
He leans against the doorway, eyes on me, arms folded. “Yeah, maybe you should.”
It’s a warning.
I can see it in his eyes.
If I stay, I’m subject to whatever is warring inside him.
