the face of the earth, and I honestly think my penis will spontaneously combust if we don’t have sex soon.” He aimed an apologetic grimace at his groin. “But I want to earn your trust first.”
She didn’t hesitate. “You already have it, Lucas. Let’s do this.”
He was pretty sure he was going to die if he didn’t start breathing again.
Tilting her head in thought, she added, “If you want me to spend the night, you’ll have to get up early. Belle and I booked a tour at the Inglethorpe Mansion tomorrow morning, so we need to leave on the first ferry to the mainland.”
“That’s…” He cleared his throat. “That’s doable.”
A light tap on his butt made him jump again. “And so are you. Let’s peek at your nose, get clean, and then get dirty again.”
He led her into the tiny, white-tiled bathroom, and they squeezed into the space between the vanity and the shower. Squinting in the overhead light, he studied his reflection.
Bags under his eyes from another sleepless night spent fixating on Tess. Shiny forehead from the heat. Sweat-darkened clothing. Blood-spattered tissue twists shoved up his swollen nose.
He started laughing. “This is literally the least seductive I’ve ever looked in my entire adult life.”
“This may not be your finest hour.” Her lips twitched as she scanned him in the mirror. “But rest assured, you’re still fine.”
“Are you sure you want to have sex with…this?” He waved a hand at his reflection.
Now she was laughing too, her head leaning against his chest as her mirth echoed in the small room. “Well, I didn’t plan to make tender love to your nose, Lucas. Or your sweaty workout clothes. So yeah, I think I’m good.”
Surrounding her shoulders with one arm, he pulled her closer. “Okay, then. Let’s survey the damage.”
With his free hand, he yanked the tissues from his nose, tossed them in the trash, and waited for the flood. And waited.
“Well, this is anticlimactic. I’d hoped for something reminiscent of The Shining. Or Carrie, at the very least.” Her brows furrowed, that adorable trident appearing between them. “Now that I consider the matter, Stephen King really has a thing about floods of blood.”
He gave his nose an experimental wiggle. Still nothing. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Apology accepted.” She lightly rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Does that hurt?”
When he shook his head, her eyes met his in the mirror. “Then, from what I can tell, you might get a bruise, but you didn’t sustain any major damage. Do you think that handsome face of yours can survive some contact?”
He wanted his face in a variety of enticing locations on her body, all of which would involve extensive skin-to-skin contact. As long as he wasn’t actively bleeding, there was only one answer to give. “Definitely.”
At her wicked grin, he had to support himself with a hand on the vanity.
“Good. Then let me call Belle and confirm I’ll be out tonight. I don’t want her to worry.” She headed back into the hallway. “Commence your manly sexytimes preparations, Lucas.”
He blinked after her. “Is that your former-teacher way of telling me to shower?”
“And whatever else you guys do before a woman spends the night.” Without turning around, she flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture. “But make it fast, because I’m getting impatient, and I need a shower too.”
Tess, wet and naked in his apartment. Mere meters away from him.
That really seemed like a lost opportunity.
“We could shower together.” He cleared his throat. “For efficiency’s sake.”
She looked at him over her shoulder, her phone already at her ear. “I like the way you think.”
This seemed way too good to be true. “You’ll do it?”
“Brace yourself, Lucas. The Boobening is almost upon you.” Then she spoke into her cell, her eyes locked to his as he sagged against the bathroom doorway. “Belle, honey? Don’t expect me back at our room tonight. I have big plans for our tennis pro. If you don’t hear from him again, assume he died as he wanted to live: smothered by my ginormous rack.”
What a way to go, he thought. What a way to go.
Fifteen
Tess cast a doubtful look at his shower. “On second thought, I’m not sure we’re both going to fit inside there. I think the stall started its life as a coffin.”
“Oh, we’ll fit.” He reached for the top hook of her sports bra and paused a moment. When she didn’t protest, he carefully tugged the fabric until the hook popped free from the eye, and then moved