Page 231 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Peyton? You in there? Peyton?”
No answer. He pressed his shoulder to the door and pushed open the cubicle.
Peyton shoved herself away from the wall with a cry and flung one arm across her breasts, plumping them up like an offering, and her other hand over her crotch beneath the slight swell of her belly. That left her with no hands to throw the soapy hair out of her face, so she glared at him through wet hanks of hair.
He leaned against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest and grinned at her. He should end every adventure with such a treat. Weak water pressure trickled over her white skin, slightly chafed from her washcloth. He had to shift to hide his reaction to the sight.
“Do you mind?” she demanded, her voice the growl of a hostile cat, at odds with all that softness.
She threw herself back when he reached in to shut off the water. He picked up the towel from the rack and shoved it at her.
“You’re pissing off the troops, Peyton.”
She glanced from the towel to him with a kind of hopelessness. If she reached for it, she’d have to move one of her strategically placed hands.
After another appreciative perusal of the curves she’d hidden beneath her shapeless clothes, he took pity. A shame, really, to hide breasts like that, legs like that. But the flush now covering her whole body told him it was time to retreat. He hooked the towel over the rack again and backed out.
“I’m just telling you if you turn the water on, we’ll have a riot out here. Now get dressed. My crew is taking us to town for some real food and maybe a real bed.”
Her head snapped up and his jaw snapped shut. More embarrassed than he would have expected by the inadvertent suggestion, he closed the door.
