Page 26 of The Commander

“I don’t mind. I can throw your pants in the dryer.” I shrugged because the truth was I liked having him in my home.

Very much.

“Guess I could. Why don’t you finish the rest and curl up on the sofa? I’ll go warm up, then make sure you haven’t gone into some hypothermic coma when I’m done.” He tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear as we both ignored the very obvious lie in his words.

It was spring.

Sure, it was cold, but now that I was out of my wet clothes, I was about as far from a hypothermic coma as I was from suddenly not finding my commander attractive ever again.

Miles.

Many, many miles.

Watching Noah walk down my hall, his wide shoulders filling the space, I wondered what it would be like to be in love with him. To be loved by him. To share a home and bed with him.

Nice.

I knew it would be.

Shaking my head, I finished the last of the spaghetti, rinsed the container and curled up on the sofa while the shower was running. A few minutes later, I felt myself dozing. The last thing I recall was a weight shift around me and being surrounded by his familiar scent and delicious heat.

Which I think I snuggled into.

The next morning, I woke up in my bed, wearing only the little cotton nightie I wore under my dressing gown and no panties. I swear I stared at the ceiling for about thirty minutes, imagining a dozen scenarios, and I’m still not sure which one I wished had happened. I never asked what he did, and Noah never volunteered the information.

Watching him now, across the table, I know we’re both remembering the same things.

“Beautiful, clear night out tonight,” he says, sipping his water. “Full moon.”

“I saw it when I was out there,” Marlene replies. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Not a lick of rain all week.” Noah holds my gaze. “Unfortunately.”

Oh, dear God.

As Marlene starts talking about rainfall levels and how the gardens need it right now, my body temperature rises dangerously.

Why do I feel like his prey?

CHAPTER EIGHT

NOAH

––––––––

I could see the memories running through Quinn’s mind. I’d done it on purpose. I wanted her to remember that night she undressed in front of me and how she curled into me on the sofa like a kitten. I fought not to hold her in my arms the way I wanted and failed. The little sleep noises she made had my cock jolting, but I stayed put.

But when I carried her to bed and placed her under the covers, I decided to remove her dressing gown. Listen, I played it out in my head and figured that if she was deep asleep and twisted and turned, she might choke herself with the belt.

It seemed likely...

I undid it, slid the plush gown from her body and then cursed when I found her pale blue nightie had bunched up.

Around her waist.

My cock stood to attention as I wiped a hand over my face, staring at her bare ass. Not just her ass. One leg was bent, revealing some of her pussy.

A good man would’ve tugged her clothing down or covered her with a sheet. I am not a good man.