Exposed to You (One Night of Passion 2)
She started to protest heatedly, but then caught herself. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit that what he’d said was true. Her caution when it came to Everett went beyond the whole enigma of fame, however.
“I just think it can’t be . . . accurate,” she said after a pregnant pause.
“What can’t be accurate?”
“The way I feel about you.”
She watched the fast-flowing, gray river in the tense silence that followed.
“Why not?” he eventually asked.
She felt her courage slithering away like a cowardly snake. “It’s an infatuation. It’s . . . sexual.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced up at him anxiously.
A rigid, fierce expression had come over his face. “A sexual infatuation,” he repeated, his tone oddly flat. “That’s what you think is going on here?”
She didn’t know what to say. It was hard to look straight into his eyes and be dishonest.
It was harder to meet his stare and tell the truth.
“I don’t know, Everett,” she finally said lamely.
He leaned down and took her hand in his, pulling her into a standing position. She set her sketch pad on the seat of the lawn chair before she faced him. She had to suppress an urge to step back. Forget the tousled blond hair and a face that had graced thousands of glossy magazine covers; Everett was just a man in that moment . . . an intimidating, elemental, virile man. He took her into his arms, his presence striking her like a precise, focused flame—a determined blowtorch.
That was Everett.
“You know what they say,” he said softly, bending his neck until his face was just inches from hers. His body felt hard and unwavering next to her own. His scent filtered into her nose: clean male skin, spices . . . sex.
“About what?” she wondered, dazed.
“About the best way to get over a sexual infatuation. Just give in to it. Hard. It’s bound to burn itself out in the end.”
He bent and picked up her pencils and sketchbook. He took her hand and led her off the dock.
Joy followed him, nervousness and anticipation warring for room in her consciousness. She’d been the one to goad him, even if she’d done so unintentionally. She’d been the one to ignite that fierce blaze in Everett’s eyes.
Now there was nothing left but to see if she could survive the heat unscathed.
Fourteen
It was almost five o’clock by the time they reached the guesthouse, but the sun still felt intense. The interior of the little house was dim and cool. Joy tried to get a full inhale of the chilled air when they entered and Everett shut the door behind them, but her lungs didn’t seem to be working adequately. She was breathless. She glanced back at him, her nervousness only amplifying when she saw him locking the door. She experienced an overwhelming urge to run, but stilled herself with effort. It wasn’t as if they’d never had sex before.
She lifted her chin and stared at him with what she hoped was a calm expression when he turned and leaned against the door.
“What am I going to do with you, Joy?”
She bristled and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, ignoring the shiver caused by his quiet, husky question. “I suppose you’re suggesting it’s a challenge to put up with me?”
“No,” he said, pushing himself off the door and stalking toward her. “I was just asking myself what I planned to do to you.”
Her heart stalled and then resumed beating in double time. She looked up at him, her arms still crossed beneath her breasts, when he came within inches of her. He put out his arm in a silent, ironic invitation and challenge. Joy turned, keeping her gaze defiantly latched to his, and walked ahead of him into the bedroom.
She stood by the edge of the bed, watching him warily as he entered behind her.
“I’d like to tie you up again,” he said.
She flinched slightly—not in hurt or fear, but in a quick, surprising shock of excitement.
“Take off your clothes,” Everett said.