There wasn’t an ounce of truth in his accusation. Rill would never do something to intentionally hurt Katie.
Would he?
He stood there on the porch alone, playing devil’s advocate with himself.
No.
You’d never intentionally hurt her, but chances are, you’ll hurt her in the end.
He thought of her sitting on that rock and looking up at him with that sublime smile. He recalled—in graphic detail—how she’d given him so much pleasure so unselfishly . . . how she’d met all his demands, even surpassed them . . . how he’d let her . . .
. . . how he’d loved it.
“Jaysus,” he muttered gruffly under his breath. He walked back into the house. The sound of the shower running penetrated his volatile thoughts.
He didn’t know why he did it, for sure. He walked down the hallway in a daze and op
ened the bathroom door. Warm, humid air struck his face. He could see the shapely shadow of Katie’s body behind the ivory shower curtain. She started when he whipped back the curtain. She blinked in surprise.
Rivulets of water ran down smooth planes and curves that Rill knew fit his palms perfectly. He itched to touch her. Her nipples were relaxed and pink, large and succulent from the heat.
“Rill?”
He unglued his eyes from Katie’s beautiful breasts and glanced up to her face. He felt like everything had gone into slow motion.
“Do you want to get in with me?” she asked breathlessly.
Hell yes, he wanted to get in with her.
“No,” he said.
She looked confused, but smiled. “Then what are you doing?”
Good question, Rill thought. What the hell was he doing? Why had he subjected Katie, of all people, to his chaotic state of mind and volatile libido? Better he’d chosen a stranger to work through this—or even a prostitute—than Katie Hughes.
He just stood there on a knife-edge, because despite his thoughts, he experienced a nearly overwhelming desire to put his hands all over her wet, naked body. He longed to carry her out of that bathroom, lay her on his bed and lick every drop of water off her skin. The need to bury himself in her and lose himself in a nirvana of pleasure was so strong, so sharp, it felt like it’d choke him.
“Rill?”
“I just wanted to look at you,” he said stupidly. He caught a brief image of her bewildered expression before he flicked the shower curtain shut, depriving himself of the sight of her.
He went into his bedroom and shut the door. His cock tingled. He lay on his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, willing his arousal to cool. His cock only stiffened and swelled, though. He couldn’t erase the image of Katie from his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d had two thunderous climaxes barely an hour ago, and here he was, chubbed up and horny for her again?
He felt a little desperate when he went over to his desk and jiggled his computer mouse. The screenplay he’d started came up on the screen.
At least he knew now why he’d walked into that bathroom. It’d been a personal challenge. He’d needed to stand in the presence of pure temptation and walk away.
He thought of what Everett had accused him of out on the porch. He saw Katie standing in the shower, warm and supple and naked.
Do you want to get in with me?
He grimaced and sat down in the desk chair. It hadn’t been much of a personal triumph, really. It was useless to think he could resist Katie for long. He’d been blaming Everett in his mind for the worst kind of betrayal, but it was Everett who should have chosen a more worthy friend.
His fingers began to fly across the keyboard.
Eighteen
Katie felt like the only cheerful person at a funeral. She made chicken fajitas for dinner, even preparing a homemade salsa from the tomatoes, corn, peppers and fresh cilantro that she’d bought at the co-op. For all her efforts, she might as well have served Rill and Everett cardboard for dinner. Rill barely looked at her, wolfed down his meal, cleaned up his dishes and retreated once again to his bedroom. Everett was nearly as bad, but instead of not looking at her, she’d catch him examining her while she ate like he suspected she’d caught a fatal disease or something.