Series: Trophy Husbands #1
There are reasons.
He’s not going to be a real husband. Just part-time. Yes, I have to live with him. And, okay, I also have to share his bed. And, sure, he’s the sexiest and most exciting thing to ever happen to my controlled, organized life.
But still… It’s only a part-time marriage. I’m not going to give him my heart. I know what I’m doing, and I’m too smart to fall for my husband.
I open the bathroom door and nearly run smack into Trevor.
I give a little squeal and immediately look to make sure my towel is in place. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I just got back.”
“I was in the bath.”
“I know that.” He’s looking very sexy in that end-of-the-day way he has. Five-o’clock shadow. Slightly loosened tie and collar. Half-lowered eyelids.
God, the man is hot.
“I could smell you as soon as I walked in the door,” he adds, the slightly rough words doing nothing for my flustered state of mind.
“You smelled me?” I’m thinking all kinds of things at the moment, and none of them are suitable to share with the man in front of me.
He reaches over, and I swallow over a quick intake of breath. I think he’s going to touch me. I want him to touch me.
He touches my bath salts instead. “This stuff you put in your bath. I smelled it as soon as I walked in, so I knew you were in the bath.”
It’s perfectly logical. And kind of a disappointment.
His hand moves from the bath salts, and his fingertips slowly trail up my towel to the bare skin at my collarbone. It’s barely a touch, but it makes my skin flush and a pulsing begin between my legs.
“What did you think?” he asks, his voice a little thicker than normal.
“What did I think about what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. My brain isn’t exactly functioning at the moment.
“What did you think I smelled?”
“I… I didn’t know.”
It feels like he sees.
It feels like he sees all of me.
I’m staring at his plum-colored tie because it’s safer than meeting his eyes right now. I don’t want him to know how I’m feeling, how his touch, his presence is affecting me.
“Are you planning to move out of the doorway? I need to use the bathroom.”
And that’s like a load of bricks on my breathlessness. I’m able to meet his gaze now with a cool expression as I step out of the doorway.
I’m on my way out of the room when he says, “We can return to this particular conversation a little later in bed if you want.”
The asshole knows exactly what I was feeling just now.
Fortunately I’m not feeling it anymore.
“I don’t think so.”
I turn my head and see him smirking at me, as if he thinks he’s already won.
He hasn’t won.
“Yes, I’m sure. The problem is that any kind of conversation with you involves your infuriating personality, and that just doesn’t work for me.”
“I think it does.”
“You think wrong. And I thought you had to go to the bathroom.”
“I do. We’ll resume this conversation at a later date.”
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.