Page 54 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

My clothes too heavy, too scratchy.

A little shiver coursed up my spine.

And there was an ache deep in my core that I couldn’t find any other excuse for but desire.

Holding my gaze, Gav opened his mouth.

In my panic over what I was feeling toward a man I literally held at (fake) gunpoint, I pushed the dumpling into his mouth just a little too firmly, meaning my finger traced across his lower lip in the process.

Maybe it was a trick of the light or my overactive imagination, but I could have sworn his eyes went heated at that.

It wasn’t until he started to chew that I dropped my hand and took a step back. Then another.

The bed stopped further retreat.

“Good, right?” I asked, trying to act like nothing had happened. Like desire wasn’t still coursing through my system as I sat and fiddled with the food.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he agreed. “I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

I watched him as he gathered his things then closed himself into the bathroom. Only when I was sure I was alone, I buried my face in my hands and let out a little groan.

I was going to replay that moment no fewer than fifty thousand times. Before I fell asleep. And then likely at least once a day for the rest of my life. Like that one time I’d accidentally said “cunt” when I meant “can’t.” In front of my father. Who found it hilarious enough to recount to all his friends. I was still thinking about that one a couple times a day… twenty years later.

I sighed, shoved the rest of the dumplings in my mouth, then pushed the tray into the hall.

I was just walking back, cheeks puffed out with food, when the bathroom door flew open.

Then there he was.

Wearing a pair of black sleep pants… and nothing else.

I had no idea what kind of body I expected a homebody like Gav to have. But it certainly wasn’t one that involved a full set of six-pack abs and corded biceps. Or, oh God, those deep indents that disappeared into his pants.

I wanted to swallow, but I had too much food in my mouth.

Realizing I was ogling him, my gaze shot back up to his face, finding him shooting me a lazy grin.

Caught.

I was hopelessly caught.

But Gav reached out, poking at one of my puffy cheeks.

“Squirreling that away for the winter?” he asked.

I couldn’t say anything with my mouth still hopelessly full.

“I’m gonna read for a bit before turning in,” he said, moving past me as I finally remembered to start chewing.

I couldn’t tell you if the flush I felt creeping up my neck was from desire or embarrassment. Either way, I grabbed my toiletry bag and flew into the privacy of the bathroom before he could see it.

Alone, I finally swallowed my food, then turned to admire the shower before deciding I owed it to myself to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to indulge in a four shower head shower.

So that was exactly what I did. While trying to remind my overwrought system why lusting after Gavino Costa was a horribly bad idea.

The problem?

When I finally made my way back out of the bathroom a while later, he was lounging up in bed, his stupidly gorgeous body on display, casually reading a book, looking like some sexy professor from some silly adult movie.