Slow Heat

Was he? At the moment, he didn’t feel like it. He parked at his place and when they walked inside, he saw neither hide nor hair of any annoying Kincaids.

A miracle.

He took Bailey into his bedroom and she sighed dreamily at the sight of his bed. “Looks nice,” she said, and walked toward it.

“Take off your shoes,” he said.

“Mmm, I like it when you get all commanding and bossy,” she said with a wicked grin.

Jesus, she was killing him.

She laughed a little at his expression and kicked her first shoe off. It flew across the room and nearly gave him a second black eye.

“Ohmigod,” she gasped when he caught it in midair an inch from his face. “You’ve got good reflexes.”

That he did. Which was how he managed to control his expression when she bent to more carefully remove her other boot and fell over.

“Whoops.” She laughed. “I swear I’m not a walking DUI. I’m just a lightweight cuz I never drink alcohol.”

He scooped her up off the floor and set her on his bed. He yanked the comforter down and pointed for her to scoot in.

With a laugh, she tugged him down over the top of her and then wrapped herself around him like a monkey. “You smell good,” she murmured, face plastered to his throat. “You always smell so good. What is this stuff you wear?”

Her entire body was glued to his. He could feel her soft breasts pressing into his chest, her thighs cushioning his, and between those thighs the heat of her drawing him in like a bee to honey—

“Hud, are you listening?”

“Of course I’m listening.” He totally wasn’t listening. He was thinking about how she’d look if he stripped her naked. She’d be all flushed and gorgeous, and he wanted to taste every inch of her and then nibble some of those inches. Just thinking about the sounds she’d make as she got closer to orgasming made him painfully hard.

It required every ounce of control he had to break free of her and get off the bed, but he did it. He tossed his blanket over her.

“But I have all my clothes on,” she said, blinking confoundedly up at him, then rolling over to try and get off the bed.

“No,” he said, tucking her in. “Stay.”

“I can’t sleep with my clothes on, silly.” Wriggling free of the blanket, she unbuttoned and tugged off her sweater, which somehow got caught on her knit cap.

This left her in just a little lacy-nothing bra and jeans, arms up over her head, fighting the sweater that was covering her face. Every panicked move she made had her breasts jiggling, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of them.

“I’m going to suffocate!” she gasped.

Shaking his head, he put a knee on the bed and bent over her to free her. She was warm and soft, and her cap came off. Her very short hair was strawberry blond and baby fine. Soft. The scent of the silky strands had him inhaling her like she was crack. He’d noticed every time his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, she shivered. So he did it on purpose now, stroking his fingers over her soft skin, and a low moan escaped her, which didn’t help his situation any. He finally freed her from the sweater.

“My hero,” she said with huge relief. She went to work on her jeans. Not easy since they were snug. When she shimmied them down past her hips, her panties started to go with, giving him a heart-stopping view of the promised land.

He abruptly turned away.

“Hud?”

Killing him. She was killing him. It wasn’t the first time she’d shortened his name the way everyone in his world always did, but she didn’t do it often. On her tongue it sounded… perfect. Which was why, against his better judgment, he turned back.

She was sitting in the middle of his bed in just her undies, his comforter clutched between her breasts. “Is that okay?” she whispered. “That I call you Hud?”

“Yes.” His voice came out unintentionally husky and a little thick, and she dropped the comforter. Her bra wasn’t doing much in the way of hiding her from him. The skimpily cut cups had most of her spilling out. She was either cold or turned on, and that question was answered when she spoke.

“I want you,” she whispered.

Oh, Christ. He didn’t have enough control for this. Not even close. He backed to the door and ran right into it. He turned to face it, his fingers on the handle.

“Hud?”

“We can’t,” he said to the door.

“Because you’re a good guy. Lily said that I was falling for you because you’re hotter than sin on a stick, but I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m falling for you because you’re everything I want in a man: strong from the inside out, steady, calm, smart… sweet.”

While he grappled with that—sweet?—she went on. “I know I said I didn’t want The One,” she said. “That I had a lot to do before I found The One. Like the stuff on my list.” She sighed. “I know I also said that you weren’t The One, but I think that was me just trying to protect myself.”

Oh, Christ. “We shouldn’t talk,” he said desperately. “Until no one in this room is sloshed, we should have some quiet time.”

“And you,” she went on. “I was trying to protect you too. Against my feelings.”

“Bay.” He thunked his forehead to the door.

“Because the truth is I know you don’t have time for anyone, even The One. You’ve got a full plate. And I don’t want to be someone’s… something, a something that they don’t have room for on their plate. That would make me… broccoli.” She shuddered. “And no one wants to be broccoli, you know?”

Drunk Bailey had her head on straighter than Stark-sober Hud. He turned to face her and found her struggling out of her bra, which she flung across the room. It landed on his lamp. “I’m going to get you some water,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

She blinked and smiled and the blanket slipped out of her fingers to pool at her waist, revealing all that creamy, soft skin that he knew would be warm and welcoming. She patted the bed beside her, those amazing breasts shimmying. “Just you,” she whispered.

Jesus.

She reached down and hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties.

“Wait.” Good God. “Bailey, this isn’t going to happen.”

“I know,” she said, and he started to breathe easier. But then she spoke again and lassoed his heart. “I know what you’re going to do next,” she whispered.

Shoot himself?

“You’re gonna push me away. You’re going to do that because you care about me.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know when, but I know you will. Because that’s what you do when you care too much. And I know you care about me because I can feel it in every look you give me, in every touch. So I guess what I’m saying is that I’m just trying to make the most of it before you do.”

Jesus. She slayed him. “You’re so sure of that, huh?” he said softly, not sure if he was teasing or stalling.

“Yep. Your family helped me get there.”

“What?”

She blinked, looked a little worried, and said… nothing.

“Bailey.” She tightened her lips. Oh, great, so now she was going with the fifth. “You’ve been talking to my family about me?” he asked with what he thought was damn good restraint.