Page 68 of Not Your Average Vixen
From this point on, there would be no time spent on silly Soren sexual fantasies. Lori’s wedding was in three days. That was the priority.
“Tom and Lori left this morning to get started on the cakes,” he commented.
She frowned. “They did?”
“Yeah, Lori said she knows your grandmother’s recipe for the red velvet cake, and Tom insisted on helping,” he finished with a scowl.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on his Tom obsession. Shame tore through her chest. All her planning for the perfect wedding and, somehow, she was still getting it wrong. She’d promised Lori that she’d take care of everything, just like her grandma Dasher would have wanted.
Instead, Lori was baking her own cake!
Add another failure to the Birdie life scoreboard.
She chugged down the glass of orange juice, then searched the space for the bathroom. Just as she’d remembered when she’d come here as a girl, the rooms were tidy little suites with rustic furnishings, characteristic of a mountain getaway. She spied the tub and shower combo past an opened door and peeled off her top, then shrieked and covered her breasts.
“I forgot you were here!” she blurted.
Soren resurrected his scowl. “How? We’re having a damn conversation.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied, adjusting her arms to hide her bare breasts.
That muscle in his jaw ticked again as his gaze slid down the length of her body. “Do you want some privacy?”
She shook her head, ignoring the crackle of sexual tension between them. She cleared her throat as his wandering eyes migrated to meet her gaze.
Bridget Dasher, forget the tingles and figure out what happened last night!
“I need answers, and I need them now. You’re coming with me,” she commanded as best as one commands half-naked.
His jaw dropped. “Into the shower?”
Shirtless, she shimmied past him. “Of course not! Just stand outside the door with your back turned.”
“You’re kidding! You know I’ve seen everything—and tasted most everything,” he replied with a hint of that wolfish grin that had made her toes curl the night she’d met him.
Truth time. Did she want him to leave?
Yes?
No?
Definitely, yes! But she needed answers. He had to stay,notbecause she liked the way his eyes devoured her body. No, he needed to remain in the room only because she required basic information.
Nothing more. That tingling sensation was not a sexual reaction. It was chills. There must be a draft in the room.
She cleared her throat, going all business. “I need to know exactly what happened last night, and you’re going to tell me. Now, turn around and let me get in the shower.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
She kicked out of her pajama bottoms, then leaped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.
“Okay, I’m in. Shut your eyes.”
“My back is to you. Why do I need to close my eyes?”
“Because you do!” she huffed as she turned on the water, then screamed as a frigid spray peppered her body.
The shower curtain flew back, and Soren peered in. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
