Page 10 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

Her mouth was still dry. “Well,” she said. “I think you’re safe.”

Heat flared in his gaze. Heat and intent.

Daley’s knees went weak.

He put a hand on her bare shoulder. “You have the most amazing skin. I’ve wanted to touch it all evening.”

With one step she was between his arms. Close enough to absorb the warmth from his body. “Feel free,” she whispered.

Tristan always surprised her. She had expected him to pounce. Clearly, she had opened the door with a broad invitation.

But he was nuanced in his approach. He ran both his hands from her shoulders down her arms to her wrists. “You smell good,” he muttered.

She felt like an awkward teenager, not quite knowing what to say. “I already took a shower. I didn’t want to wander in the hall wearing a robe, so I threw my dress back on.”

He pulled back and stared at her. “Only the dress?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

A rush of color streaked his cheekbones. He lifted her skirt with one hand and found smooth, naked skin right where her thigh rounded into her ass. “Good lord.”

When he released her and stepped back, Daley was confused. “It’s not that shocking, is it?”

“I’m not worried about you in the hall,” he said tersely. “We both know this is a bad idea, right?”

“The worst,” she said, nodding solemnly.

“I’ll go if you want me to...”

But he touched her arm again as he said it, so the words weren’t convincing.

Maybe it was the late hour or the knowledge that she was losing her sister or the fact that Tristan was rumpled and heavy-eyed and not as intimidating as he had seemed in the past. But whatever the reason, she felt a great yearning to be with him.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. Carefully, she unbuttoned one of his shirt buttons.

He covered her hand with his. “I need to shower. Four minutes tops.”

“Use mine,” she said.

“Protection?”

“I’m on the pill.”

“I’ve seen the doctor a million times in the last two months. I’m in the clear.”

“Then it’s settled,” she said, shaking inside with a combination of alarm and excitement. He hadn’t even kissed her yet. She felt the leashed hunger in him, the careful control.

His gaze darkened. “Will you change your mind while I’m in the shower? Please don’t.”

She ran her thumb along his jaw, feeling the late-day stubble. He was a very masculine man. Big and powerful and yet funny and sometimes sweet. “I won’t change my mind.”

It took him six minutes, not four. But when he exited her bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel tied around his tanned hips, Daley was standing exactly where he had left her.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. Maybe a little freaked out.” The knot in his towel looked sturdy, but she kept an eye on it, nevertheless.

Tristan crossed the room in three long strides. When he was standing in front of her, he slid a finger beneath one of her dress straps. “Freaked out about what?”

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