Looking Inside

“I was then. Less so every moment I spend with you,” she whispered before she went on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

“You don’t still think I’m a heathen, then?” he asked quietly against her mouth a moment later.

“Maybe. But a heathen with potential,” she conceded.

His mouth twitched in humor. He held up the book. “I’ve kind of been remiss in my commitment to it lately. Maybe you can read it to me . . . teach me how to appreciate it.”

“I don’t know if I have the power to do that.”

His grin widened before he swept down, his firm, hot kiss stealing her breath for a moment.

“I’m starting to think that if anyone does, it’s you, Eleanor.”

—

They decided to eat their feast in bed. Eleanor made a tray for each of them and they started toward the bedroom.

“Hey,” she called when he turned right in the hallway. He looked over his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

He glanced down the hall dubiously. “To bed?”

“Oh.” It struck her that he’d never been in the master suite before. “That’s not my bedroom. That’s the guest room,” she said. She tilted her head to the left. “I’m in here.”

He followed her into the master suite. “This is nice,” he said, looking around when she turned on the light. He went around the far side of her bed and set down his tray. When they both sat on the bed, she noticed his brow was creased. “So we just used that

room all the time because—”

“Because it was the room with a view,” Eleanor said, keeping her gaze downcast to hide her embarrassment.

They started to eat, Trey growing more and more enthusiastic by the minute. He raved about the food. She couldn’t help feeling a little proud of her mother’s cooking when she saw how eager he was.

“So how is it that you ever saw me?” he asked once he finally took a pause from wolfing down his meal to swallow down half a glass of ice water.

She paused with a pelmini halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“How is it that you saw me through the windows, when you stay in here?” he asked.

Her heart seized a little. “Oh, it was just by chance, really. The first time, it was. After that . . . well, I knew to look.” He gave her a questioning look while he chewed. She flailed for a likely answer. “My parents stayed here one weekend last year. I gave them my room, because it has the larger bed. I stayed in the guest room. That’s when it happened,” she said, pretending to focus on eating again. For a few tense seconds, she thought he was going to ask her more questions. But then he reached and plucked the last bliny from her plate. She nodded down at her tray, wryly encouraging him. He grinned and dipped the pancake into her dish of sour cream. He bit into it and groaned.

“God, this stuff is good.”

She laughed.

—

After they’d finished and removed the dishes, Trey insisted she read to him from Pride and Prejudice.

“Are you serious?” she asked him incredulously when they returned to bed and he handed her the book.

“Yeah, completely,” he said, deadpan. He flipped open the book to the last page he’d read and handed it to her before he collapsed back on the pillows. Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but then soaked in the image of him reclining there, his beautiful, cut torso bare, his arms bent and above his head. He looked completely relaxed and unguarded. She quickly changed her position about reading to him.

If he grew interested enough in P and P, he might just let her touch him to her heart’s content while she read. It sounded like a plan, anyway.

After only ten minutes of reading, however, he caught her hand abruptly as she caressed his abdomen just above his jeans, her fingers straying beneath the waistband. She’d sensed the tension coiling in him, so she wasn’t exactly surprised. She stopped reading and glanced at his face.

He lifted his head off the pillow. His blue eyes were alight with arousal.

“Don’t give me that innocent look, Eleanor.”