His gaze stayed glued to mine. A tiny smile claimed the corners of his mouth. He recognized my challenge and seemed determined to meet it.
I stepped beneath the full flow of the shower, letting water pour over my bare form. Murphy’s chest rose and fell faster. His hand tightened around mine. His eyes closed, and he groaned in the back of his throat.
His forehead furrowed with the effort not to look.
“You’re getting all wet,” I said, surprised by the husky quality of my own voice.
Murphy glanced at his sleeve, damp from stray splashes. “So are you,” he growled. The heat in his eyes and the depth of his voice said he wasn’t talking about the shower.
He was not wrong.
His hand squeezed mine again, and his gaze trailed down from my face. It lingered, then lowered. Then lingered again.
He’d looked.
I’d won.
Satisfied, I dropped his hand and tilted my head back, rinsing shampoo from my hair and giving him the view in profile. My victory had made me bold, and I felt powerful, having retaken control of the moment. Inviting him to look on my terms.
Murphy stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. My gaze tracked up one tan, bulging arm to his shoulder, then across his bare, heavily muscled chest. My pulse spiked, and I swallowed a whistle of appreciation. No sense lookingtooimpressed. He might get a big…head.
His grin was all heat and sizzle, scorching me from the inside out. I couldn’t think straight with him looking at me like that. And he damn well knew it. “You look like you could use some help with that shampoo.”
Not exactly what I had in mind…“I can wash myself, thanks.”
“As evidenced by your near-fatal slip and fall.”
“Smartass.”
Murphy chuckled. His gaze smoldered as it traveled over my breasts and lingered on my hips. I should have told him to close the curtain and go away, but my mouth refused to form the words. I could practically feel his gaze on me, like sun-heated waves washing over my skin, and it felt wonderful.
His hands would feel even better; Iknewit.
His cheek dimple flashed at me, and I felt my defenses wilt beneath the onslaught of promise and possibility. My willpower was no match for those brilliant blue eyes. Or my own imagination…
“I’ll be good, I promise,” he whispered, leaning in so that his breath brushed my cheek.
I had no doubt about that. He’d bevery, verygood. But getting involved with Murphy would distract me from the job at hand. It would mislead him, considering that I planned to abandon my corporeal form as soon as I was sure I wouldn’t just wind up right back here.
It might also be completely beyond my willpower to resist.
I sighed, well aware that I was almost certainly making a mistake. “Icoulduse a little help washing my hair, but that’s it. And that’s only because I can’t lift my arm that high. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” His smile became a grin of anticipation, and I found myself returning it, indulging the fantasy playing through my head and ignoring common sense as it bobbed alone in a sea of fancy.
In an instant, Murphy had shed his jeans and a pair of black knit boxers. He stepped into the tub, and I moved back to make room for him.Plentyof room, because brushing against him would be more than I could bear with dignity. The first graze of his body against mine would trigger impulses I couldn’t hope to control. I’d probably tackle him, throwing us both to the floor of the tub beneath the spray of water, heedless of my injuries and my battered willpower.
My pride couldn’t take such a defeat. But if I lethiminitiate, I might walk away from our encounter with a little dignity still intact…
I faced him beneath the cascade, focusing on his eyes, determined not to look any farther down. “Is it too hot?” I meant the shower, of course. Really.
“No such thing.”
I felt my face flush even redder than the steam had no-doubt made it.
Murphy tugged the shampoo bottle from my grip. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding it.
“Turn around.”
