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My world has definitely turned topsy-turvy. Perhaps I’ve had one too many shocks in the last day, because instead of focusing on the ghost and the loan I doubt I’ll ever be able to pay back, my gaze has homed in on the way that towel has loosed its moorings and is sliding down the most gorgeous green flesh I’ve ever feasted my eyes on.
“Wha-what?”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
He looks so sincere. I should answer his question, but my words are coming slowly. Partially because it’s hard to think after my ghostly visitation. Partly because handsome Zylus is so damned close and smells so damned good—like aged leather and cedar. Mostly because the towel has quit slipping, but his cock is nowpulsingunder the terry cloth.
Maybe there’s some fancy psychological term for the fact that instead of paying attention to what could be life and death circumstances, I’m totally focused on the rhythm of his pulse as it’s revealed by the movement of the monstrous cock hiding under the towel.
Finally, I drag my thoughts together and sketch the details of last night’s debacle for him. For the second time tonight, I catch a glimpse of sheer anger cross his handsome face.
“Don’t worry.” His tone is smooth, confident, and reassuring. “Don’t ask me how, but I’m going to fix this.”
And… it’s quiet in this room. Just me, Zylus, and whatever is lurking under his towel.
“We’ve got a problem.” I manage to keep my gaze on his face, truly a heroic feat.
“What?”
Be still my heart. There’s something amazing about the way he’s looking at me. It’s as if there’s only one thing in the galaxy he desires, and that is to fix whatever problem I might have.
“I’m not going back in that room.”
Chapter Ten
Zylus
“No problem. I can put clean sheets on one of the other beds.”
Did I just offer that with a straight face when what I really want is to tackle her here on this bed and lick every inch of her delectable body?
“Let me clarify. I’m not sleeping alone inanyroom.”
Resisting the urge to shake my head like a character in a cartoon who’s confused about what he thinks he just heard, I edge closer, lower my voice, and enquire, “Where do you want to sleep?”
The flow of time changes from what it has been my entire life. Defying the laws of physics, it crawls so slowly it feels as if I have a twenty-minute internal debate while I await her answer.
While I anticipate her reply, I take a luxurious mental detour and envision her telling me she wants to sleep in this bed with me. Ten thousand filthy images later, after I’ve imagined all the things Misty St. Clair and I could do in this bed, she answers.
“I think the only way I’ll be able to sleep tonight is if we’re in the same room.”
This time I don’t resist the urge to shake my head to make sure I heard her right. She’s looking at me innocently, as if she didn’t just proposition me, so I’d better play back what she just said. When that doesn’t work, I ask, “What?”
“I think we should sleep in the same room. It should be… neutral ground. How about dragging some bedding to the living room floor? We could pretend we’re kids having a sleepover.”
My raging hard-on deflates faster than a flat tire on a youngling’s bicycle. A children’s sleepover? I work hard to erase every vulgar picture I’d just mentally conjured. Just as quickly as I push one to the back of my mind, two spring up in its place.
My brain must be broken. I should be thinking about what to do with my lowlife brother. I should be focused on helping this poor female regain her sense of safety. Why am I fixated on sex when there are other, much more pressing matters at hand?
“Great idea. Sleepover,” I say as I warm to the idea of being her protector.
Five minutes later, I’ve made two pallets on the great room floor. If Misty had been able to look into my brain, she would have seen me doing higher mathematics with tangents and cosines as I calculated the closest distance I could arrange the bedding without her thinking I’m a pervert. After all my computations, though, I nudge the two piles of bedding five standard inches closer than what seemed the gentlemanly choice.
It’s only when I stand up and focus on Misty that I realize she’s been calling my name for a few moments. I guess I was too preoccupied with geometry and physics to recall the object of my sexual fantasies was in the room with me.
“Uh, Zylus?”
“Yes?”
