The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(80)

I perked up. “I am.”

“Then come over here and help me.”

“Oh.” I patted my chest. “I love when you boss me around, Graham,” I said as I made my way to her, crossing the unnecessarily spacious and large room. Her arm was stretched over her shoulder, trying to reach a spot in her back. “Hold on, let me get that.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

I grabbed a couple of paper towels and took over for her, gently wiping the moisture off the visible skin on her back. “What the hell was that Chewbacca carrying around? A bucket?”

Rosie laughed, gathered her hair in her fist, and placed it over her shoulder, revealing the back of her neck. It was long and delicate, and the sight had me wetting my lips with my tongue.

Animal, I reprimanded myself.

But I still wondered how the nape of her neck would feel under my fingers if the layer of paper disappeared. Wondered if she would shiver under my touch. Wondered what would happen if I leaned down and—

Christ. Don’t go there, Lucas.

With a silent groan, I resumed the dabbing, my hand going around her shoulder on automatic and reaching her front. I paused, fingers hovering over that spot I’d been so concentrated on tonight.

My heart leaped, that craving returning with a vengeance. That was probably why when I spotted a runaway droplet trailing down her chest, crossing the curve of her collarbone and falling dangerously close to her neckline, I didn’t even think about going for it.

I retraced the droplet’s path with the towel, slowly, delicately, watching Rosie’s pulse come alive under my touch. Taking notice of the catch in her breath.

Because I wanted—needed—to see her face, my gaze shot up and met her eyes in the mirror.

There was a question in them. Wonder. Hunger. Curiosity, too.

“Just trying to get all of it,” I told her in a low murmur, keeping my eyes on hers. “I wouldn’t want you to walk around like this and catch a cold.”

“Oh. Okay,” she breathed out. And now, I could feel her heartbeat on my fingertips, even through the thin towel. “That’s good. Really good.”

“I love being helpful,” I said, even though my hand wasn’t even moving at that moment.

Her throat bobbed. “You know, that’s not even half of it,” she said, her voice joining mine in the underground. “The drink somehow got inside. Through my dress. And I think my underwear might be… you know, wet.”

I swallowed so hard I even heard the sound. “You… think? You don’t know for sure?”

She shook her head.

My own imagination turned against me, flashing all kinds of images behind my eyes. Her gown sliding off her body. Rosie in her underwear. Droplets trailing down her back. Reaching the band of her panties. Falling even lower, down her thighs, and—

“I think I need to take it off,” she said, bringing me back. Sort of. But not really, because—

“Take it off? The dress?” I rasped. Or growled. I wasn’t sure. “Now?”

Rosie moved out of my reach, severing the contact, and making my hand drop to my side.

“Yes, now,” she confirmed.

I squeezed the paper towel in my fist.

Her arm flew to her back, reaching for the zipper but not stretching far enough to make it. “I’ll just—” She stretched further. “I’ll take it off and dry it under the hand dryer.” Her arm was bent at a strange angle now. “I think you can leave now, Lucas.”

Yes. No. I… I shouldn’t be here if she was going to take off her dress. Because I’d lose it. I’d pounce on her, seeing how my self-restraint was struggling tonight. I’d want to do things to her. Like—

Cold head, Lucas.

I swallowed. “Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“How about we get you inside a stall, I unzip you, and you take it off there? Does that sound like a plan?”

She jerked to a halt. Her back returning to a natural position and her arms falling to her sides. “Okay. I think that sounds reasonable.”

“See?” I sighed, relieved but not really. “I told you I was here to help.”

She made a face at me.

When we moved to the closest stall, I threw the door open, held it in that position with my hip, and positioned Rosie so she was facing the inside.

And… all my momentary cool went out the window.

“Ready?” I asked, just in case. Just so I wouldn’t startle her with my touch. Just so I’d have a couple of seconds to prepare myself.

“Born ready,” she murmured.

“I’m going to start with the tiny button at the top. Then I’ll pull the zipper down.”

She exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to narrate it, Lucas. Just do it.”

My lips twitched at her impatience, but the moment my fingers unclasped that first button, that smile died.

My jaw clamped down tightly as I started making a work of the zipper, sliding it down deliberately gently, telling myself that it was because the fabric was thick and heavy when in reality, I was having a hard time making my fingers function. Taking a deep pull of air through my nose, I kept tugging at the zipper and more and more of that smooth, rosy skin was unveiled, sending my pulse thrumming all over my body.

I itched to move the dress out of the way and touch her. Her skin. To feel if it was cold or warm under my fingertips. To trace her spine with the back of my hand and see if she would shiver.