Back In The Bedroom (The Wrong Bed #29)(7)

Only a moment ago she’d been holding it together just fine, and then Reilly had to come close with that long, sleekly muscled body glowing in the faint light and go all sweet and sensitive on her.

Ha! As if he could ever even pretend to be sweet and sensitive.

“Come on,” he said gently. Gently.

Didn’t he know that was how to break a woman down—show a tender insight and perception, along with near nudity so magnificent it made her mouth water?

“Tessa?”

And the way he said her name in that low, husky voice… It brought to mind hot summer nights and satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking.

Not that she knew much about hot summer nights combined with satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking, but a girl had her fantasies.

And he was a walking fantasy.

Taking her hand in his, he rose. “Up you go.” He led her to the cot with a hand at the small of her back. As if he was kind and compassionate. “Lie down right here.”

No questions at the end of his sentences, not for Reilly. Nope, he never said, “Okay?” or “Would you like?” He was a guy, through and through, and an extremely confident one at that. Not to mention demanding, because really, why ask when clearly he knew everything?

“Tess. Lie down.”

He shortened her name. No one else had ever done that, and it seemed…extremely intimate, and on his lips, almost unbearably sexy.

Suddenly the room felt so small, too small. She needed wide open space and she needed it now. Forget adventure, had she ever said she wanted adventure like this? No! She wanted her cozy little apartment, her sister’s nightly visit bearing ice cream and a good movie. Maybe a call from her brother just to say hi.

“Sit.”

She shivered again—what was the matter with her? She was safe, she was fine, and now she was going to fall apart? But she sat on the cot. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, and didn’t have any covers on it. “I don’t understand this room,” she said, and shivered again, knowing she was talking out of nervous reaction, but unable to help herself. “The rest of the house is so beautiful and warm and comfortable.”

Reilly looked around him and shrugged. “For all Eddie’s wild and extravagant living, he doesn’t like servants—it’s the subservient thing, I guess. At least ones who don’t sleep in his bedroom. Fixing this room would be a waste of his time, he probably never even uses it.”

He talked about Eddie as though he didn’t like him. She didn’t understand that either. “Your father is a wonderful man.”

“What does that have to do with the fact he goes through women like some of us go through water?”

Since she couldn’t deny that, she lay down and curled on her side facing away from him. “I’m not a bed hog. You can have half.”

“It’s not big enough.”

Fine. No skin off her nose. Tessa planned to lie there and wait for dawn, but the late hour, combined with her heavy workweek, not to mention the evening’s events, had taken a greater toll than she’d imagined, and miraculously, she drifted off…

Only to dream about being grabbed from behind, about the thick, muscled forearm cutting off her air—

She jerked straight off the cot and gasped for the breath to scream but when she blinked into focus the small, rather dark room and the silent man standing there propping up the far wall, she sagged.

“Just a dream,” he said.

Imagine that.

“Go back to sleep.”

Right. She sat down, and realized she was chilled to the bone.

“Sleep,” he said. “Not sit.”

“I’m cold.”

He tipped his head back and glanced at the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. He moved forward until his knees bumped the cot. “There’s no blanket.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself and kept her eyes straight ahead, which landed them…oh, only about eye level with the best-looking male stomach ever.

“Lie down.”

She had no idea why she obeyed him, but with another shiver, she did, and then went flat onto her back, where she held her breath as he lowered himself onto the cot as well. He lay on his side facing her. He held up his head with his hand, setting his other very lightly on her stomach.

Her belly quivered. Other parts did, too, and she looked for a diversion. She found it in the closed access above them. If only he’d just climb up there—

His fingers tightened on her and he leaned in, just a little. “Sleep.”

Right. Since his broad shoulders, chest and amazing eyes filled her vision, she closed her eyes. Only problem, without a visual, her other senses kicked in. His scent came to her, a little soapy, a little woodsy and a lot male. His heat and strength seemed to seep into her chilled bones and, helplessly, she relaxed a bit, because maybe, just maybe, he really was kind and sweet and sensitive behind all that…

“You don’t snore do you?”

Her eyes flew open. “No. Do you?”

“No.” He lowered his head to the cot and closed his eyes.

Hmm. New problem. Now their faces were only an inch apart. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, she guessed, given the shadow on his lean jaw. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes. A complete waste on a man, especially this man. There was a white jagged scar running along one eyebrow, another high on his forehead. Where had he gotten such scars? His nose was long and straight, his mouth fixed in a grim, hard line. His dark hair was so short it stood straight up, and she imagined he rarely bothered with a comb. She wondered if it was soft or—