He pushes off the doorjamb and steps into the bathroom.
The room suddenly feels much smaller.
I turn to face him fully, crossing my arms mostly so I do not reach for him first. “You are supposed to be making sure everything is ready.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you up here distracting me? You’re going to make me late to my own dinner.’
His eyes move over my face. “Because you’ve been getting ready for forty minutes.”
“So?”
“So I wanted to see the result.”
That answer does something warm and fuzzy to my insides.
His hand lifts, and one finger brushes the edge of my robe where it crosses over my chest.
“You’re not dressed.”
“I am aware.”
His gaze drops to the small strip of skin exposed at my throat. “That seems like a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be too easy to take this off you.”
My breath hitches.
“Adrian.”
He leans down and kisses the side of my neck, just beneath my ear.
My eyes close.
That is all it takes.
One touch of his mouth, and the whole evening spins out of control.
“I have to finish getting ready,” I say, though my hands are already on his arms.
“You look ready to me.”
“I am wearing a robe.”
“I noticed.”
His lips move lower, and I tilt my head before I can stop myself.
“This is not helpful.”
“I’m not trying to be helpful.”
I laugh once, breathless already. “I can tell.”
His hand slides to my waist, then around to my back, pulling me closer. I go easily. I am apparently helpless around this man now.
