,
lightly starched. There were a tie, clean socks, shorts "Oh, Lord!" she
exclaimed softly. If every stitch of the clothing he intended to put on
was here on her bed, exactly what did he plan to wear for the trip from
the bathroom?
Anticipation constricted her throat, making breathing harder. The
aftereffects of her jog had faded; this quickening was due to desire.
Ross turned her on. Part of her wanted nothing more than to give herself
to him. Give herself? She would take as well,
MBT Sawa Sandals, take as she had been too
the I've to do eleven years before. She felt suddenly greedy,
puma sneakers, possessed
with a need to satisfy the gnawing inside.
"You're back!"
Chloe whirled around.
Undaunted by her alarm,
MBT Moto GTX, he grinned. "I'd hoped to be out of your way."
He gestured in token apology toward her bed. "Guess I misjudged the
time." He shot a look at the hall. "I helped myself to your supplies.
That okay?"
That okay? The towel was draped around his hips with as much panache-and
as little ceremony-as she had earlier imagined. It hung low on his
stomach and left little to the imagination. She dragged her eyes upward,
following a narrow line of hair past his navel to his waist and slowly
higher.
"Chloe," Ross began in husky chiding, "do you have any idea what it does
to a man when a woman looks at him that way?"
It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from lowering her gaze in
curiosity. "I'm sorry-"
"Oh, don't be sorry." He came closer. Though he didn't touch her, his
body was no more than a breath away.
And she felt it, felt the need. She put a hand to his chest to ward it
off, but it was a sorry miscalculation. Her fingers found a mat of soft,
dark hair that sprang, warm and still moist, from the freshness of
lightly bronzed skin.
The pounding of her pulse frightened her so that she tore her hand from
his chest and thrust it behind her back. She felt a huge measure of
guilt. If he did also, it was hidden behind desire. His amber eyes
smoldered, heating her all the more. The need,