scare you," Cash says quietly from across the room.
I reach over to turn on the lamp, but he stops me. "Don't. I want you to be able to go back to sleep."
Fat chance of that happening! I think dryly, but as tired as I still feel, maybe there is a chance.
My pulse is just starting to return to normal when Cash turns to the side, reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. The light from the next room gives him a gilded outline that highlights every rippling muscle as he moves and shifts this way and that to throw his shirt onto a nearby chair.
Blood sings through my veins and throbs in my chest when he reaches for his belt. He says nothing as he unbuttons and unzips his pants. I hold my breath when he pauses with his fingers in the waistband. I see his legs move as he kicks off his shoes.
I'm mesmerized. I can't help but watch him flick the material down his muscular legs and then step out of them. My heart stops and my mouth goes dry when I see that he's not wearing underwear. And he's hard. My mouth is the only thing on my body that's dry, though. My skin feels dewy and warm moisture is gathering between my thighs.
Breathlessly, I watch him drape his jeans over the back of the chair and turn to walk to the bed, folding back the covers and sliding in next to me.
I don't move a muscle. And, at first, neither does he. After a minute, he reaches for me. The touch of his fingers sliding over my exposed forearm is like pure electricity. It brings chills out on my skin. They race up my arms and down my back, and cause my nipples to furl into tight, aching buds.
I'm surprised and a little disappointed when he urges me onto my side. He pulls me tight against the curve of his body and spoons me from behind.
I can feel every rock hard inch of him pressing into my back side, even through the material of the robe. Before I can even think about the wisdom of it, I wiggle my butt against him. It's instinct. And desire. My body's got a mind of its own apparently.
I hear the breath hiss through Cash's gritted teeth and he grows absolutely still. For several long, tense seconds, he doesn't move. Neither do I. I want him to touch me, to put his hands and his mouth on me and make me forget the world exists, even for a little while. But when he finally does, touch me that is, it's to drape his arm over my waist and tuck his fingertips against the bed, under my side. I feel his lips as he nuzzles my neck and my heart melts right inside my chest.
He wants me. I can still feel it. But he's keeping himself in check for me, for my comfort and my emotional stability. His thoughtfulness pushes me one step closer to never being able to recover from having him in my life, from having met him and known the depth of feeling that I have for him.
For the umpteenth time since meeting Cash, I realize I'm quite possibly in big, big trouble.
Dammit.
We lie quietly together, breathing deeply and evenly, both of us waiting for our bodies to cool. I never thought it could be literally painful to be near someone. But it is. I ache with want, with need. There's a place, an emptiness that only Cash can fill. It's physical, yes. Oh boy, is it physical! Just the thought of him penetrating me, thrusting so hard and so deep inside me...
I squeeze my eyes shut and banish the thoughts from my mind. I have to start cooling off all over again.
Grrrrr.
But there's something more profound about the way Cash makes me feel, too. He fills an emptiness that has only recently become a gaping chasm in my soul. Since meeting Cash, in fact. It's like he created it, but at the same time, he can fill it, too.
With a heartfelt sigh, I turn off that brain channel as well. It's going nowhere good. Fast.
"So," I begin when the silence and the closeness is too