“This is exactly what I would’ve pictured for you,” I tell him as I come to a stop in front of him.
He grins. “You’ve been thinking about my bedroom?”
“No. I saidwould’ve. Listen when I speak.”
I turn away so he doesn’t see my smile.
“Lies,” he whispers from a position close to my back.
I shiver at the proximity and the heat of his breath on the back of my neck. But before I can anticipate anything else, he speaks again from a more distant range.
“What’s your bedroom like?” he asks.
“What do you think it’s like?”
I turn to face him. He presses his lips together in thought.
The soft glow of the bedroom lights blur the sharpness of his features. His eyes are mossier and less jade, his jaw blunt and less defined. Still, he’s beautiful in every way.
“I’d say your bedroom is black and white with pink details here and there. But not too much,” he adds. “Can’t let anyone think you have girlish whims or anything.”
I shove his shoulder as I laugh, knocking him off balance.
“But am I right?” he asks.
“Yes,” I mock, rolling my eyes.
He rewards me with a bright smile. “There’s a difference between you and me, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll admit that I’ve been thinking about your bedroom.”
My stomach clenches. Fire rockets from my core down my thighs. Holt watches me as if he can see my inner workings and just what he does to me.
His eyes darken, his lids hood, as he takes in my reaction to him. My breathing becomes uneven as our proximity and location come together in one fluid, perfect moment.
I wait for any sign that he’s finally going to touch me. The longer I watch him, the more I want him.I need him. I’m dying for him to break the barrier between us.
He shifts his weight, and my breath catches in my throat. My body tingles with expectancy at his next move.
He runs a hand down his jaw and over his chin as he watches me from just a few feet away.
“The sauna is in here,” he says and turns away.
My insides scream as the pent-up desire I’ve had building for days now threatens to spill out. I force myself not to shout at him, not to reach for him, not to make any mention of how irritating he is when he does this.
It takes a full two seconds to get my feet to move to follow him.
I consider that maybe he didn’t feel the same way after the night at Picante. But then I remind myself that he pursued me. He wanted to see me. He wanted to meet for brunch.
But that was before I snotted all over his shirt tonight.
We step inside a brightly lit bathroom that’s as beautiful as the rest of his house. The cabinets and built-ins are white, as is the claw foot bathtub. The only pops of color come from the wooden sauna door tucked into a corner and the turquoise-colored tile in the shower.
He ignores me and heads straight for the sauna. Dials are adjusted, and buttons are pressed.
I bite my lip as I watch him focus on everything except me. Each second that passes and he’s still ignoring me makes me more anxious.
