Page 110 of The Trouble with Tigers
“Mmm.”
Her mouth curved in a tremulous smile as she straightened. “Randall and Caden said the accident caused us to lose points, and declared the match a draw.”
“Like hell,” he said. The cold towel really was easing his headache. “Not that there’s any prize I want from them. You, however…”
His gaze drifted over her disheveled appearance. Her coiffure had lost most of its pins, and only a sagging coil at her nape remained. Several silky tendrils, gleaming blue-black in the candlelight, framed her face.
“Poor darling. You never even got to clean up.”
She lowered her lashes and put a hand to her brow. “I look a mess.”
She looked like heaven. “Turn around,” he commanded in a rough voice.
She shocked him by obeying without question for once. She probably assumed he intended to adjust his sheets or his drawers.
He didn’t. Using both hands, he grabbed at the remaining pins in her hair and tossed them onto the floor. The thick coil unwound.
She spun around, her hand to her nape. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I like your hair down.” He took advantage of her distraction, wrapping one hand around her waist to pull her toward him. “Sit.”
She rested her slender hip on the edge of the mattress, glancing over her shoulder at the open doorway linking hisbedchamber and the night dark, adjoining antechamber. “This isn’t proper. I’m not even supposed to be here. What if someone comes?” She licked her lips.
His eyes fixed on those rosy lips. He didn’t give a damn if anyone came. He just wanted to taste her. To feel her glossy hair brush over his naked chest. To hold her in his arms. “What time is it?”
She scrubbed her hands over her skirts. “Nearly two a.m., I think.”
“No one’s coming,” he announced. “But if it will make you feel better, go lock the adjoining door.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because I’d like to claim my forfeit now.” He held his breath, aware what he suggested was wrong, and not caring one iota. He wanted his mouth on hers.
He watched her wrestle with her conscience.
In desperation, he played his ace. “You did almost kill me.”
Without a word, she pushed to her feet and hastened for the door.
His cock seemed to thicken with every step she took. He mounded up the bedcovers around his waist so she wouldn’t notice the telltale bulge and run. Not before he kissed her.
She returned to her perch on the edge of his bed, eyes roaming his naked chest in a charming combination of alarm and something resembling hunger. “Oh, dear. Your bedclothes.”
“What about them?”
She swallowed visibly. “They’ve fallen.” She reached for them with both hands, evidently intending to yank them up.
Better she see his chest than what his sheets concealed.
He caught her wrists. “Too hot. I likely have a fever, due to my injury.” He had a fever, all right. It just had nothing to do with his head injury. “Feel for yourself,” he said, his voice husky.
Taking one of her hands, he unfurled her fingers and placed her palm flat on his chest.
“You are quite warm,” she said, breathless. Her fingers pressed into his skin in tiny pulses, almost kneading, and he had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and plunder her sweet mouth.
“Come closer.”
She inched further onto the bed.
