It's Only Love(8)

“Okay, thanks.” Ella ducked into the bathroom, thankful for the moment alone to collect herself. If he could act like this was no big deal, she could, too. Or she could at least try to act like it was no big deal when it was the biggest of big deals.

Moving quickly, she removed her boots, jeans and sweater. After a brief debate, she took off her bra, too, because she’d never be able to sleep with it on. She pulled on the flannel shirt that fell to her thighs. The shirt smelled like him. Unashamed, Ella took a full minute to breathe in the rich, appealing scent of him coming from the shirt.

Yeah, she had it bad, and it was going to get worse before this night was over. Of that she had no doubt. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she fumbled with the buttons, managing to button the shirt wrong the first time.

In the cabinet, she looked for a toothbrush and encountered an economy-sized box of condoms. And yes, she checked to see if it was opened—it wasn’t. As she put it back on the shelf, she noticed the size: extra large. She took a moment to daydream about Gavin Guthrie’s extra-large—

Oh, for God’s sake! Did she really need to know what size condoms he bought? It wasn’t bad information to have. But why the big box? Who was he planning to get busy with?

“Toothbrush, Ella,” she muttered, aggravated with herself and now him, too, because she couldn’t very well go out there and ask him who he’d bought all those condoms for. She found an unopened toothbrush and used his Colgate-with-whitening toothpaste. No wonder his smile was so perfect, and yes, she was being ridiculous glomming on to these little details the way a stalker would.

And then she spotted a bottle of cologne on the counter, and being only human, she had to take a good long sniff and then sigh with the pleasure. Gucci Black. Sigh . . . Here was the essence of Gavin in a bottle. Put it down, walk away, brush your teeth and stop acting like a freak!

Ella hated when common sense interrupted her daydreaming. She brushed her teeth and used his brush on her hair, trying not to think about her hair intermingling with his on the brush because that would be weird.

Then she took a long look in the mirror, summoning the calm control she needed to get through this night with him. Wouldn’t it be something if she’d waited all this time for a chance with him only to blow it by acting like a lovesick freak? What if he caught her sniffing his cologne? Or worse, his shirt?

Stop! Just stop it and be normal. Except she had no idea how to “be normal” when Gavin Guthrie was in the room, let alone next to her in a bed. She was never going to survive sleeping with him.

She emerged from the bathroom to discover a whole new challenge. Gavin had removed his T-shirt and sweats and was sitting on the bed wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Holy hell. And she was supposed to act normal in the face of his insane hotness?

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, brushing by her. “I’ll be right out.”

If he looked in the cabinet, he would know she’d seen the huge box of condoms that were in front of the toothbrushes. What did it matter if she’d seen them? It wasn’t like they were going to need them. Or were they? What did he think was going to happen here tonight? What if he came out of the bathroom with the box in hand, prepared to get down and dirty?

Before she could do something ridiculous like pass out on the floor of his bedroom by failing to breathe, she got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She couldn’t be lying there like a mummy when he came out, so she turned on her side and confronted that yummy scent all over again on his pillow. Wait! Was this his side of the bed? Should she be on the other side?

“Oh my God, Ella, calm the hell down before you have a stroke.” Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine the story I could tell . . . On my first night with Gavin, after years of lusting after him, I stroked out from the thought of sharing a bed with him, so he had to take me to the emergency room where we spent a very romantic evening with me attached to IV poles.

The soft flannel of his shirt abraded her nipples, which were apparently standing at full alert, aware that something monumental was about to happen. By the time Gavin emerged from the bathroom, shut off the light and slid into bed next to her, Ella was on the verge of a full-on thermonuclear meltdown.

She’d told herself she could do this. She could get closer to him, knowing she might be setting herself up for disaster if he happened to change his mind at some point along the way. But after this, after sharing a bed with him, after sleeping next to him and God knows what else might happen during the night? Yeah, she’d never get over it if he decided to walk away after that.

Ella was thinking she should get out of there while she still could, but then his arm came around her waist to draw her closer to him, and she was lost, absolutely, positively lost.

She wasn’t going anywhere.





CHAPTER 4




Hope is the thing with feathers that perches

in the soul—and sings the tunes without

the words—and never stops at all.

—Emily Dickinson



Ella wasn’t sure where to put her hands. Or her legs. Or the rest of her, for that matter. He was going to think she’d never been in a bed with a man before, when she had. Not that he needed to know that. She’d never been in bed with a man who mattered as much as this one did.

“Relax, El. It’s just me, your old buddy Gavin.”