“Right.” He cleared his throat, then took a step sideways. “It was—you’re fine now.”
“Fine.”
Another step, that pillow still clutched against him. “So I’ll just…”
“Right.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away, as if I wasn’t completely in awe of his chest. “Sounds good.”
You’re not making any sense.
Well, who could blame me? Lord, the guy washot.
I was getting turned on just standing there, wasn’t I? I peeked at him again.
Was it my imagination, or did he hesitate for just a moment before dropping his gaze tomycrotch and back up again? There was something strange in his eyes, and it wasn’t until the bedroom door closed behind him that I realized what it had been.
In the center of each of his dark eyes, there’d been a tiny glint of green.
It didn’t take long for me to pack everything into my backpack. I would change into jeans and a bra soon enough, but for now, I was feeling a little maudlin as I padded barefoot into the kitchen. Thinking to help, I figured out how to work Garrak’s fancy coffee maker, poured in some of theOrcin’ Aroundspecialty blend, and pulled down the cup I remembered he’d used yesterday.
When he hadn’t emerged by the time it finished brewing, I poured him a cup, trying to remember if he’d taken it with cream or sugar.
I was chewing on my tongue, staring down at the mug, when Ifelthis gaze on me. I peeked over my shoulder, and sure enough, Garrak was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing a fierce frown.
He wasalsowearing that same pair of gray sweatpants that did allsortsof delicious things to his crotch region, and a black Henley shirt, pushed up to his elbows…but I was more worried about the frown.
“Good morning,” I croaked, then forced a smile andoffered him the mug. “I made you coffee. A little fuel for the drive. Do you like creamer or anything?”
Instead of answering, Garrak unfurled his arms and began to move—stalk—across the kitchen toward me. Worried I’d done something wrong, I backed up until my ass hit the counter and the coffee in his mug threatened to spill.
When he reached me, he kept coming, stepping too close, forcing me to tip my head back. I realized I was holding my breath, my lips parted in—worry? Anticipation? What was going through his mind?
One big hand closed around the mug, taking it from my hand. Our fingers brushed, and I thought he might have lingered.
“No, sweetheart,” he said gently, moving the mug to the counter behind me and moving his palms to the granite on either side of me, blockading me with his warmth. Just like this morning. “I take it black, just like you.”
My eyes widened. “You…”
“Noticed how you take your coffee?” He dipped his chin slightly, still towering over me. “I notice everything about you, Stevie. It’s my responsibility.”
My lips formed a little “oh” of surprise, but no sound emerged.
Dark eyes, each with a tiny speck of green in the center, caressed my face, as if searching for something. After a long moment—I really needed to get around to inhaling one of these days!—he nodded once—in approval?—and straightened.
I sucked in a breath and allowed myself to slump against the counter, his approval making me flush proudly. After grasping for something totally nonchalant and cool-sounding, as if I weren’t flustered by my body’s response to him, I blurted, “How long is the drive to Raleigh?”
ObviouslyI failed on thenonchalant and coolpart, okay?
Garrak didn’t move, his expression didn’t change. His black-and-slightly-green gaze studied me as if I were fascinating.
Finally, he rumbled, “You’re not going to Raleigh. I’m keeping you.”
I’m keeping you?
I should tell you that those words were so surprising that I jerked against the counter, bumped into him, bleated a startled, “What?” and grabbed a hold of his chest to steady myself.
But honestly?
Honestly?
