Falling for the Enemy (Private Pleasures 3)

Oh yeah. That. “Absolutely. Sure.” She handed him the flashlight and practically jumped off the stool. “Be right back.”

She hustled to the breaker box and threw the switch, then inched down the hall far enough to confirm the light flickered on. From the porch she heard him utter something that sounded like, “Lightning knows his shit,” which she took to mean the camera worked. She stopped in the kitchen to pour a glass of water, briefly considered throwing it over her head to cool herself down, but settled for a deep drink before she returned to the porch.

He stood there bathed in porch light, with his head tipped down and his eyes closed, absently rubbing the back of his neck. God, he looked…weary. Just like the night she’d dragged him into her salon and watched his eyelids grow heavy as she chatted his ear off and trimmed his hair. A bunch of stupid and highly misplaced protective instincts rose up and took control of her mouth.

She ran a hand down his back, feeling his body heat through the drenched T-shirt. “Have you had dinner?”

He straightened and looked at her. “I planned to pick up something from Boone’s on the way home.”

“Change your plan. I’ll make dinner.”

Now he started gathering up his tools. “I don’t want to track up your house. I’m all dirty and wet.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Me, too,” but she swallowed the wayward retort. “Not a problem. Leave your shoes by the door and you won’t track up my house. You can shower while I get dinner ready, and I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“Tell you what, I’ll save the coq au vin for another night, but I have this funny habit of eating every evening, and I can just as easily boil up a whole box of pasta as half.”

The sarcasm earned her a smile. He closed the lid on his toolbox. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“I put it exactly like that.” She waited while he unlaced his boots, slipped them off and left them neatly paired up by her door. Her shoes looked ridiculously small and delicate—and strangely intimate—resting beside his.

But it wasn’t until he stepped into her entryway that she fully appreciated the meaning of the word intimate. He took up all room in the narrow space. The soft, sage green paint she’d painstakingly layered onto thick plaster walls seemed to nudge them together and the original etched glass fixture gracing the entryway dappled them in soft light. The steady pitter-patter of rain on the roof insulated her ears from mundane noises like the tick of her grandma’s mantle clock in the living room, or the hum of the refrigerator kicking on in the kitchen.

Dirty, wet, and tired, she reminded herself, and led him down the hall to the one and only bathroom, stopping at the built-in linen closet to dig out another towel. She chose a blue striped one this time.

“No mermaid?”

“I’m sorry. Did you want a mermaid towel?”

He shrugged. “Might be the closest I get to showering with a redhead tonight.”

Chapter Nine

Shaun braced his hands on the blue-tiled shower wall, tipped his head down and let the hot water beat down on his scalp. He attempted a turn in the tiny compartment and smacked his elbow into the frosted glass door. The flimsy latch gave, the door flew open and water doused the white bathmat. He pulled the door shut so he could finish rin

sing off without flooding the small room. Damn it, pre-war bathrooms weren’t built for guys his size. This was like showering in a doll house.

The space seemed even smaller thanks to all the girl stuff closing in on him from every available surface. His showers up until now had been blissfully devoid of salts, muds, butters, brushes, and other junk populating Ginny’s bathroom. He slid the soap from the stingy, yet overflowing, built-in shelf and was about to scrub it across his chest when something made him stop and sniff the plain, white bar. The sweet, sunny scent of Virginia snuck into his nostrils, infiltrated his nervous system, and tugged hard on his dick. As much as he appreciated the effect, the idea of walking around smelling like a honey-dipped lemon blossom gave him pause. But he figured she’d appreciate it more than him walking around smelling like sweat and rain. He lathered up and imagined her in there with him, her wet hair streaming like liquid fire over her pale skin. He practically felt her soap-slicked hands sliding along his neck, down his back, and then sneaking around front to cup his balls. His eyelids drooped while his cock sprang to life. Finally, those slim fingers would curl around his—

The soap slipped out of his hand and landed with a thud on the tile floor. When he bent over to get it, his ass hit the shower door. The latch gave out again and this time the door flew open so hard it slammed into the bathroom wall. Water from the shower sprayed everywhere.

“Shit!”

He grabbed the door and pulled it closed. It clattered into the latch at the same time Ginny knocked on the door and called, “Is everything all right in there?”

“Fine,” he called over the cascade of the shower. Just standing here with a hard-on that won’t back off, systematically demolishing your bathroom.

“Okay. Take your time. Your jeans are dry. I’m just going to pop in and leave them for you.”

He stared through the frosted glass as her blurry outline moved into his line of sight. She put his folded jeans on the counter, puttered around with something or other by the sink, and then turned. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he got the impression she was staring at the shower.

“Do you…have everything you need?” The hesitant, husky voice encompassed him as completely as the warm steam from the shower. Her palm formed a dark shadow on the glass door.

No. I need you to strip down, get in here, and… Some scrap of pride wouldn’t let him say the words though. Virginia wasn’t a hesitant girl, but she had plenty of hesitations about him. Being her impulsive mistake, yet again, didn’t sit well with him. “I’m good. Thanks.” If she wanted more, she was going to have to say so, without hesitation or the escape hatch of “one last time.”

“Great. Good.” The shadow of her hand disappeared. “I’ll go start dinner.”