Page 47 of Cherished Lands
What I needed was my sanity back. I needed to not be sharing a cramped hotel room with my fake wife, who seemed to delight in torturing me. What I needed was?—
"You're letting all the hot air out." I didn't have to see the knowing smile. I could hear it in her voice. "Either come in or close the door."
It wasn't really a choice. It had stopped being a choice the moment she'd walked into my barn wearing that black dress.
My fingers were unfastening my shirt buttons before my brain caught up with what I was doing. I kicked the door and it clicked shut behind me, trapping the steam—and us—in the too-small space. My movement stalled.
"Don't tell me you're suddenly shy," Tessa taunted. She pressed her hand against the glass, leaving a clear outline that did nothing to help my self-control. "You seemed pretty confident when you had me pinned beneath you in your bedroom."
"That was different." The flannel hit the floor, leaving me in my white undershirt.
"How? Because we weren't married then?"
"Tessa. Don't."
"Don't what? State facts?" She slid the shower door open just enough to peek out. Her cheeks were pink and sparkling droplets clung to her eyelashes. "Or don't remind you that you're still wearing too many clothes?"
I balled my fists and swallowed. My voice trembled as I fought for control. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Of course I do." Her smile was pure sin. "I've been doing it all week. The question is, what areyougoing to do about it?"
I kicked off my boots, and they thudded on the tiled floor. "You're going to regret asking that question."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The moist air had my jeans sticking to my thighs. It raised my current... predicament from uncomfortable to unbearable. Thetime for teasing was over. A button pinged sharply against the floor as I ripped open my fly and yanked my zipper down. One shove, and they were gone, crumpling around my feet. Tessa watched me step out of them, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I pounced. In the space of a heartbeat, I crossed the room, entered the stall, and pressed her against the wall. She gasped—from the cold, slick tiles at her back or the heat of my body against hers, I didn't know or care. Her mouth was already opening under mine, eager and greedy.
Steam swirled around us as I pinned her hands above her head and swallowed her moan with another kiss. Water pounded against my back, soaking through my remaining clothes, but all I could focus on was the slide of her tongue against mine, the way her body arched into me like she couldn't get close enough.
"About damn time," she breathed against my mouth.
Her fingers groped for the hem of my soaked undershirt, yanking it up and away with an impatience that made me grin against her mouth. I stepped back enough to let her drag it over my head, watching water droplets trail down her collarbone. Every instinct screamed at me to move my gaze lower, to take in her perky breasts, the pebbled nipples brushing against my chest, her flushed, soaked lips. But I also wanted to savor this moment, unravel her piece by piece.
This was my first time seeing her naked, and she was a vision—all curves and confidence, and that knowing smirk that drove me crazy. Tessa Belmonte.No—Tessa Everton. My wife.The thought hit me like a lightning strike.
She must have seen the shift in my expression because hersmirk softened into something more dangerous. Something real.
"See something you like?" The teasing edge in her voice was gone. Now there was a vulnerable note, like she genuinely cared about my answer. My chest tightened.
"You're beautiful." The words were out. There was no taking them back.
Her eyes widened. For once, she didn't have a smart comeback.
There was no denying it. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was a shade darker when wet. It was the color of molten caramel, and it stuck to her neck and shoulders in glossy strands. In a moment of startling clarity, I knew why I'd avoided blondes all these years. They weren'ther.
Water trickled down her cheeks, past her soft, parted lips. Her pupils were blown wide, almost engulfing the green irises, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. The moment stretched between us, charged with something more than simple lust. Before it could get too deep, her fingers skated down my chest and over my stomach to the waistband of my soaked boxer briefs.
"These need to go," she said, hooking her fingers under the elastic. Her other hand slid around to grip my ass.
With a massive effort of will, I swallowed my groan and caught her wrist. "Patience, Mrs. Everton."
The name made her eyes darken further. "I think we've both been patient enough."
She was right. We'd been dancing around this for weeks. And now here she was, naked and wanting in my arms.
