Instant Attraction
Page 70
No, he probably wouldn’t think about that much at all…
He let out a breath, extremely aware of the fact that his body was already there, thinking, hoping, yearning.
Damn.
Maybe one more time…
She opened her eyes and smiled softly, and he rolled her beneath him. Yeah, one more time should do the trick, really nail it home. “God, you feel good.”
“You make me feel good.” She cupped his face, her entire heart in her voice, and when he met her gaze, he was slammed by the look in hers.
Soft.
Dreamy.
Emotional. Oh, Christ, she was looking so damn emotional over him.
“What is it?” she murmured.
It was almost incomprehensible, but his brothers, the knuckle-heads, had been right.
This wasn’t lust.
Not even close.
No, it was something much, much deeper. Horrifyingly deep. Confused, he rolled away from her and slid out of the bed.
“Cam?”
“Yeah, would you look at the time?”
“It’s only seven. I didn’t look at the schedule. You have a trip?”
“I…” He couldn’t remember. He just needed to think this thing through. God, he needed to think, which he’d proved over and over again that he couldn’t manage in her presence.
Out. Get the hell out. He wasn’t proud of it, but that’s all that he could think.
Get out.
He whipped around, looking for his clothes, having never felt more naked in his entire life. He found his snow pants and yanked them on.
No shirt.
No shoes.
He’d probably have hypothermia before he got to his own cabin, and was weighing the odds against it when he felt her hand on his back. Nearly leaping out of his skin, he turned and found her standing in front of him.
Naked.
Beautifully, gloriously naked, except for her glasses, and he had the most ridiculous urge to grab her close and hold on, like he’d never held on to anything in his entire life.
“So,” she said very softly, still standing there, “you’re looking a little panicked.”
“I can’t find my shirt or my shoes.”
She walked over to the foot of the bed and picked up his T-shirt and his outer shell, still entangled since he’d ripped them off together last night. “No comment on the panicked thing?” she asked.
No. Again, he was going with the Fifth. And since she appeared in no hurry to give him his shirt, and also if he didn’t get out of here right this very second he was going to suffocate, he turned and headed to the door without it.
“Cam.”
“Yeah, I’m late. Very late.”
“I see.” Some of the softness went out of her voice, and he was quite certain, with a sudden sick dread, that if he looked into her eyes now, he’d see that the light usually in them, the precious light in those shimmering whiskey depths, would be gone.
“Late for what?” she asked. “The rest of your life?”
Yeah, something like that. Christ, he really was an ass. But knowing it didn’t alleviate one ounce of his sudden, irrational, undeniable panic.
Or the need to run. “I’m sorry,” he said with utter inadequacy.
She didn’t answer. Hating himself, he opened the door; then because he couldn’t stand it, glanced back at her over his shoulder as he did.
His two shirts hit him in the face. Pulling them down, he mumbled “sorry” again and turned to the very bright, sun-shiny morning, which hurt his eyes and hurt his gut. Hurt every damn thing as behind him the door slammed, nearly knocking him down the steps.
“Hey, genius.”
Annie stood on the path. She wasn’t alone. Of course she wasn’t alone, because hey, why should he face this moment of The-Biggest-Most-Stupid-Move-He’d-Ever-Made in private, when he rarely did any of his spectacularly stupid stunts in private?
Nick stood next to Annie, and there was Stone, and oh, perfect, T.J.
And…Riley, their office manager? “You’re back?”
“Not officially,” Riley said. “Just wanted to come by now that we’re back in town and see how your temp was faring, see if she needed anything for these last few days of her time here. But it seems as if you have it-and her…” he said wryly, “handled.”
Cam ignored that and moved down the walk to greet his brother, bracing himself to be questioned and grilled on his year-long absence, maybe hounded about his lack of responsibility during that time, because being the oldest, T.J. had always drilled that home.
But T.J. didn’t do any of that, or even say a word. He simply grabbed Cam and pulled him in.
It had always driven Cam crazy when people so easily and casually touched each other, and yet he found himself wrapping his arms around his brother and holding on.
With a low sound of relief, T.J. hugged him hard, then shoved him away to get a good look at him, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Yeah.” Cam’s throat was tight, too tight, and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the audience and the emotion. “Same goes.”
Annie’s hands were on her hips as she regarded his appearance, reminding him he stood there in only his unfastened pants, still holding his T-shirt and outer shell, his feet freezing.
“Where’re your boots?” Nick asked. “Man, you’re not supposed to let a woman keep your boots.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Annie turned to Nick. “Are you kidding me, you’re still mad I took your damn boots?”
He let out a breath, extremely aware of the fact that his body was already there, thinking, hoping, yearning.
Damn.
Maybe one more time…
She opened her eyes and smiled softly, and he rolled her beneath him. Yeah, one more time should do the trick, really nail it home. “God, you feel good.”
“You make me feel good.” She cupped his face, her entire heart in her voice, and when he met her gaze, he was slammed by the look in hers.
Soft.
Dreamy.
Emotional. Oh, Christ, she was looking so damn emotional over him.
“What is it?” she murmured.
It was almost incomprehensible, but his brothers, the knuckle-heads, had been right.
This wasn’t lust.
Not even close.
No, it was something much, much deeper. Horrifyingly deep. Confused, he rolled away from her and slid out of the bed.
“Cam?”
“Yeah, would you look at the time?”
“It’s only seven. I didn’t look at the schedule. You have a trip?”
“I…” He couldn’t remember. He just needed to think this thing through. God, he needed to think, which he’d proved over and over again that he couldn’t manage in her presence.
Out. Get the hell out. He wasn’t proud of it, but that’s all that he could think.
Get out.
He whipped around, looking for his clothes, having never felt more naked in his entire life. He found his snow pants and yanked them on.
No shirt.
No shoes.
He’d probably have hypothermia before he got to his own cabin, and was weighing the odds against it when he felt her hand on his back. Nearly leaping out of his skin, he turned and found her standing in front of him.
Naked.
Beautifully, gloriously naked, except for her glasses, and he had the most ridiculous urge to grab her close and hold on, like he’d never held on to anything in his entire life.
“So,” she said very softly, still standing there, “you’re looking a little panicked.”
“I can’t find my shirt or my shoes.”
She walked over to the foot of the bed and picked up his T-shirt and his outer shell, still entangled since he’d ripped them off together last night. “No comment on the panicked thing?” she asked.
No. Again, he was going with the Fifth. And since she appeared in no hurry to give him his shirt, and also if he didn’t get out of here right this very second he was going to suffocate, he turned and headed to the door without it.
“Cam.”
“Yeah, I’m late. Very late.”
“I see.” Some of the softness went out of her voice, and he was quite certain, with a sudden sick dread, that if he looked into her eyes now, he’d see that the light usually in them, the precious light in those shimmering whiskey depths, would be gone.
“Late for what?” she asked. “The rest of your life?”
Yeah, something like that. Christ, he really was an ass. But knowing it didn’t alleviate one ounce of his sudden, irrational, undeniable panic.
Or the need to run. “I’m sorry,” he said with utter inadequacy.
She didn’t answer. Hating himself, he opened the door; then because he couldn’t stand it, glanced back at her over his shoulder as he did.
His two shirts hit him in the face. Pulling them down, he mumbled “sorry” again and turned to the very bright, sun-shiny morning, which hurt his eyes and hurt his gut. Hurt every damn thing as behind him the door slammed, nearly knocking him down the steps.
“Hey, genius.”
Annie stood on the path. She wasn’t alone. Of course she wasn’t alone, because hey, why should he face this moment of The-Biggest-Most-Stupid-Move-He’d-Ever-Made in private, when he rarely did any of his spectacularly stupid stunts in private?
Nick stood next to Annie, and there was Stone, and oh, perfect, T.J.
And…Riley, their office manager? “You’re back?”
“Not officially,” Riley said. “Just wanted to come by now that we’re back in town and see how your temp was faring, see if she needed anything for these last few days of her time here. But it seems as if you have it-and her…” he said wryly, “handled.”
Cam ignored that and moved down the walk to greet his brother, bracing himself to be questioned and grilled on his year-long absence, maybe hounded about his lack of responsibility during that time, because being the oldest, T.J. had always drilled that home.
But T.J. didn’t do any of that, or even say a word. He simply grabbed Cam and pulled him in.
It had always driven Cam crazy when people so easily and casually touched each other, and yet he found himself wrapping his arms around his brother and holding on.
With a low sound of relief, T.J. hugged him hard, then shoved him away to get a good look at him, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Yeah.” Cam’s throat was tight, too tight, and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the audience and the emotion. “Same goes.”
Annie’s hands were on her hips as she regarded his appearance, reminding him he stood there in only his unfastened pants, still holding his T-shirt and outer shell, his feet freezing.
“Where’re your boots?” Nick asked. “Man, you’re not supposed to let a woman keep your boots.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Annie turned to Nick. “Are you kidding me, you’re still mad I took your damn boots?”
