His lower lip twitched. “Physical itch, huh? And you’re saying you don’t have the same spot you’d like scratched?”
“That’s right.”
“Then answer me one question.”
“What?”
His eyes burned a hot whiskey gold. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “If I slipped my finger into your panties, how wet would I find you?”
She let out a cry of outrage and punched at his chest. He only grinned in amusement at her temper, easily holding her off. “Get off me now!”
“Sure, baby.” He rolled over, his impressive erection straining his briefs. With a casual disregard, he walked to the other side of the bed and crawled under the covers. He let out a deep sigh and turned to his side. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. Unless you ask nicely, of course. But just know, I happen to have a master key to every room in the house.” He plumped the pillow and let out a sigh of contentment. “Oh, and try not to snore tonight, okay?”
“I don’t snore!”
“Yeah, you do. Hopefully I’m too exhausted to care. Been a hell of a wedding day.”
She fumed in silence, her body stiff and unyielding as she lay beside him. If he even thought of trying to touch her, she’d kill him. Her heart pounded wildly as she listened to his breathing. Within minutes, Sydney realized he was fast asleep.
Oh, she hated him. Still pissed off, she climbed out of bed, gathering up all the extra pillows from the closet. She carefully stacked them down the middle of the bed, creating a wall between them. The temptation to sneak out again was great, but she was so damn tired.
She got back into bed, and her body slowly relaxed into the mattress. She was wet and achy between her thighs. Maybe she’d sleep for a bit, then leave. She’d have to find the damn skeleton key first. Still, when he woke up and found her gone, it would teach him a valuable lesson. He had a point about Becca, but she hated the way he ordered her around. He needed to be taken down a few pegs. She’d sleep with him when she was ready—on her terms. One day.
Yes, just a few minutes and then she’d prove her point.
In just a few minutes . . .
She drifted off to sleep.
chapter nineteen
I think we should take Becca horseback riding.”
Sydney regarded him over her coffee. It had been two weeks since the wedding, and they were still dancing around each other. Every night she snuck into a different room, and every time, she woke up back in his bed. Once she’d hid in the library with a blanket on the leather armchair.
He always found her and carried her back to bed, then rolled to his side without touching her and went back to sleep.
At least the wall of pillows was always there.
It had become a game between them and a way to show him she refused to buckle under his orders. She liked the way his usual wall of ice crumbled in the face of his aggravation, especially when he spent over an hour to find her. Pushing him seemed the best attack to get him to deal with her on a more emotional scale. He kept his promise, though, and left her alone.
Unfortunately her body seemed to seek his out like a missile to a target. Every morning she woke up with her legs and arms entangled around his, her face pressed to his naked chest, and the pillows scattered around them like rubble on a battlefield. When she regained consciousness, she pulled away in horror, disentangling herself and rolling back to her own side, but it’d be too late.
His knowing gaze raked over her body with amusement each morning, relishing her hot cheeks and refusal to look at him. It was pure torture, and she didn’t know how to keep herself away from him. The ache in her gut was growing worse, along with the need for him to touch her. To say more than a few surface words to her. To give her a real smile.
They worked side by side during the day, staying out of each other’s way and remaining polite. In the evening, they ate together, spent time with Becca, and then went to their separate computers to work. They couldn’t keep on this path or one of them was going to break.
Sydney bet it’d be her.
She needed to force him to deal with her away from work and the bedroom. Horseback riding seemed the perfect opportunity.
“You mean for the lessons I bought for her birthday?” he asked.
“Yes, I think we can all use a day together.”
He was sorting his briefcase for the day ahead. Dressed in a crisp black suit, red tie, shiny wing tip shoes, and engraved onyx cuff links, he emanated male grace, power, and hotness. Hair pushed back from his brow in brushed waves, jaw clean shaven, his ocean scent filling the air. Mornings were always hectic, but he kept completely calm through breakfast madness, her regular argument regarding Becca’s wardrobe, the lost library book, and the toast he’d made too crunchy without melting the butter until it was invisible. Instead of getting annoyed, he remade it to perfection and discovered the missing library book tucked in the couch cushion.
Sydney finally got her off to the bus on time and scrambled back to gulp a last cup of coffee before heading out. “When did you want to go?” he asked.
“Saturday. I’d like for us all to go together. But you don’t have to ride if it makes you uncomfortable.” She threw out the challenge in a casual manner. He looked up from his briefcase with a frown.
“I can ride a horse.”
She fought a smile. He’d always been so easy to bait. “Really? Somehow I can’t picture you on a horse. It’s messy. And I thought you were afraid of horses.”
His frown deepened. “I’m not scared of horses. I can handle them just fine. It’s a good idea. Let’s go.”
“Great. I scheduled the tile installation for Saturday, so maybe we can go early? I can set up a nine a.m. ride, and we can go for brunch. Then we can drop Becca off at Morgan’s so we can stay late at the site.”
“Fine.”
She nodded. It was time to see if they could make this work together. Becca needed them to be comfortable with each other and make up a solid family unit. She deserved Sydney’s best effort. “Are you coming to the site dressed like that?”
He cocked his head. “I have a real estate deal to close first. I’ll meet you over there in a few hours.”
“Do you need me to bring you some old clothes?”
He frowned. “No. This is my old suit.”