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Henri needs some.
It’ll help…
“Here.” I threaded my fingers through his on the tub of cream. “I don’t like that you’re unhappy.”
He shot to his feet. “Merde, you really don’t handle your drugs well.”
Finally…he speaks.
I smiled and nodded.
That was the key.
The only way he could come back from the shadows in his eyes.
“Come back.” I opened my arms. “Talk to me. You’re usually so chatty.”
His eyebrows swooped up; a flush covered his neck.
Swallowing hard, he scooped some goo from the tub and gingerly sat beside me. “Remove your towel.”
I shivered.
Couldn’t help it.
A lash of heat.
A lightning fork of need.
It bolted down the energy line from the top of my head to the base of my spine. It simmered unwanted in my core.
Oh no, no, no…
I could cope with spacey. I could handle a few daydreams. But uninhibited desire? Elevated sex drive?
No way.
Squirming a little, I shook my head. “You know what? I think I’ll stay wrapped up. I’m fine like a burrito. See? Burrito is my new identity.”
He looked borderline unhinged as his gaze dropped to my chest and his teeth ground together. “You’re not fine. You look like a morbid Christmas tree. Open your damn towel. That isn’t a request.”
God, why?
Why did his curt command rush through me like the worst kind of aphrodisiac?
It shouldn’t.
It really shouldn’t.
But it did.
And it always had, and if the spacey feeling just faded for a moment, I’d have enough strength to crawl onto his lap, remove both our towels, and kiss him.
I moaned and licked my lips.
A kiss.
Yes…I’d like that.
