She was still in her bed, on her side, facing him. She was reading. The duvet had been tugged down to her waist. Smiling, she closed the book and stretched. Her breasts stretched with the motion. “Sleep well?”
God damn it, with her dark chestnut hair all tousled and her eyes all sleepy, she looked as sexy as hell, and damn it to hell, his body responded accordingly. As if he hadn’t spent half the night trying to rid himself of the image of her bent over, removing the jug from the fridge in the sideboard, that had etched itself in his retinas.
Rolling back on his side so his arousal wasn’t obvious through the bedding, he reached for his phone and muttered, “Feel free to go first in the bathroom.”
“I slept well too, thank you for asking.”
He glared at her.
“If I’m to use the bathroom first, I’ll need my clothes to change into. You said they’d be cleaned?”
“They’ll have been left on the table outside the bedroom door.”
“What, the door you kept locked all night? By the way, I meant to mention it last night, but that’s a real fire risk.”
“Are you always thisawakein the morning?” Gino usually needed three coffees to feel human.
“Not normally, but then I don’t normally wake up in a strange man’s bedroom with my kidnapper sleeping only feet away from me.” She pushed her legs out of the duvet and sat up, giving him another unwelcome reminder that she was naked beneath his t-shirt.
Pyjamas, he decided grimly. He would buy her pyjamas. Ugly pyjamas.
“Have your shower, and I’ll get your clothes for you.”
“Can’t I take them in with me?”
“I don’t work my timetable to suit you.”
“Ooo, someone’s a grouch in the morning. Would you like me to make you a coffee? That might cheer you up.”
As the coffee machine he kept in his bedroom was on the same sideboard she’d bent over at, he could think of nothing worse. “I can make my own coffee.”
Francesca got to her feet, but instead of heading to the bathroom, she padded over to the sideboard and rummaged through the coffee pods.
Thanking God that all the coffee-making stuff was placed at surface level and required no bending over, Gino scrolled through his messages and did his utmost to tune out the killer body only feet away from him.
His utmost was nowhere near good enough, and his temper came within a breath of snapping when she took her cup of coffee to her bed and sat back down.
“I thought you were going for a shower.”
His tousle-haired, sleepy-eyed beauty took a sip of her coffee and smiled. “I’ll drink my coffee first and wait for you to get my clothes.”
Fuck it. If she wanted to play games, then let her. Screw trying to spare her blushes. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, throwing his bedding off. “I’ll go first.”
Fully aware his erection was sticking out like a maypole, he strolled past her and shut himself in the bathroom.
When the handle of the bathroom door turned, Francesca’s heart went into hyperdrive, and when Gino emerged wearing only a towel around his waist, it wasn’t only her cheeks that flushed. Since he’d walked past her with his thing sticking out at a right angle, there had been a hot pulse beating hard between her legs.
She had not been in any way prepared to see that. Even if she bleached her eyes, she’d never be able to rid herself of the image, and she hadn’t even seen anything! He’d been fully covered, from neck to ankle, but his arousal had been unmistakable.
While she’d sat frozen on her bed with the muffled sound of the shower running as background noise, her mind had raced through all the references to men waking with erections in her books. From what she’d read, it was a common thing. Normal. Natural. In no way did Gino walking past her with a giant erection mean anything personal towards her. After all, he’d tried to get rid of her, tried to avoid her having to see it. She’d refused to play ball – she was his hostage, so why would she? – and in his exasperation, he’d decided not to bother shielding her.
He wasn’t covered from neck to ankle now, and though she’d already determined to act like she hadn’t seen anything earlier, to act in exactly the same infuriating manner that was working so wonderfully in tormenting him, her stare dipped below his waistline before she could stop herself.
One quick glance was enough to see he was now erection-free, but that one quick glance was also enough for her to get an eyeful of the outline of his nonerect manhood, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop her cheeks catching fire. Not just her cheeks. All of her. The pulse beating between her legs swirled into a flame.
If spontaneous human combustion really were a thing, then she had no doubt at all that it was caused by Gino Vicario wearing nothing but a towel clearly showing the outline of his cock. Even the local nuns would have to fan themselves if he were to walk past them like this.
Painfully aware he could see the colour saturating her cheeks, she did the only thing she could do in this situation and made a jest of it. “Wow, Mr Vicario, if I’d known you were hiding that body under your clothes, I’d have fought harder to share your bed.”
