“He is.Come on.”Warner heads to the guest bedroom, and I follow, stumbling on my numb feet.
Still no Bruce.That is, until Warner gestures I should circle to the other side of the bed.
There, sticking out from under the frame, is a big, beautiful dog butt.
I fall to my soggy knees to peer under the bed, and as I do, I hear a comically loud snore.
“You f-fucking asshole.I almost got eaten for you.”The words should come out angry, but I’m too relieved that he’s here and safe to be mad.
At the sound of my voice, Bruce snorts himself awake.He does a funny roll-shimmy to get out from under the bed before sniffing at my drenched clothes.Shivers still hit me in random bursts as I scratch behind his ears.
“You went searching for him?”Warner asks as he leans on the doorframe, dripping on the hardwood.
“I guess I forgot I let him back in.And when he didn’t come when I called …” I shrug and push myself up from the floor.My shoes squelch with every movement, and my waterlogged clothes cling to my chilled skin.I imagine Warner feels the same discomfort I do.“I’m going to change.”
He nods and makes to move back.
“Do you want to stay?I mean, you should.It can’t be safe to drive in that.”
Rain assaults the windows, and more thunder rumbles.
“I would …” Warner gives me a rueful smile before glancing down at his own soggy state.
I grimace.“Sorry.I don’t think Minnie has anything that’ll fit you.”I bite my lip as I brainstorm, coming up with a solution that I might like a little too much.“If you want, I can stick your clothes in the dryer.You can work some toga magic with a couple of towels till then.”Maneuvering past him, I open the hallway linen closet to pull out an armful of towels.
“Are you trying to get me to strip, Zoey Gunner?”
I hide my smile by pushing him toward the bathroom.“Technically?Yes.But with fully innocent intentions.”
Liar.
Warner chuckles and goes where he’s directed.When the door closes, I head to the master bedroom to peel off my damp layers.Painful pricks jab into the soles of my feet and pads of my fingers as I regain feeling.I towel off the cold droplets still clinging to my skin before pulling on a set of flannel pajamas.I’m hugging the soft material close, loving the warm feel of it fighting off the chill, when I hear the bathroom door creak open.
The second before I turn around, I realize I’ve chosen some of the most shapeless, least sexy garments I own.Then, I do turn, and the regret of my choice doubles.
Triples.
Multiplies by a million.
Because I get a gorgeous view of Warner—damp hair, chest bare, towel hanging low on trim hips, grinning wickedly at me.
And I am not dressed for seduction.
It’s hard to remind myself that I decided against getting flirty with this biker when he’s one tug of a towel away from being naked.
So.Deliciously.Naked.
And oh, the things I could do with a naked Warner.Like spread him on my bed and lick his?—
“See something you like?”he asks with sin in his voice.
I shove my lust away, the task akin to Sisyphus struggling with his boulder.
“Yes,” I mutter, ignoring how Warner’s grin grows wider.“Grandma Minnie has very nice towels.”
18
WARNER
