The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,38

this night before it had begun.

Manny had looked at her like a crazy person when she’d freaked about going to his room instead of hers. She’d had it all planned out, how to ensure they hooked up here instead of his room. Lead into it gently, insist they go to her room, easy. Instead, she’d made up that lame-ass excuse about being fussy about beds. Major slap-upside-the-head moment.

He hadn’t bought it either, but being the consummate gentleman, he’d offered her an out. He thought she didn’t want this.

Like hell.

So she set about proving exactly how much she wanted him.

She’d pulled the covers back, dimmed the lights so only the balcony light remained on, and stripped down to her underwear. Plain old serviceable black cotton. She hadn’t planned on hooking up with anyone in New Zealand, let alone Manny, and she hadn’t had time to go out and shop for sexy lingerie. It had never been her thing anyway. With Colin, she didn’t want him lingering over looking at her body once she’d been diagnosed. It had always been lights out. A smart move as it turned out.

That’s why she’d insisted on her room tonight. She needed access to her makeup in the morning, to ensure Manny didn’t see her face in all its patchy glory, and so she could control the lighting situation too. The latter wouldn’t have been such a big deal in his room, though he might think her mad once she started running around turning off lights before they got down to sexy time.

Thankfully, he’d excused himself for the bathroom when they’d entered her room, giving her time to prepare. The sound of the bathroom door unlatching had her bolting toward the bed. She didn’t know whether to sit or stand or lie down, nerves making her palms clammy.

This was ridiculous. She liked Manny. He was a good guy who’d helped her out of a jam when he didn’t need to. He was funny and hot and beyond sexy.

She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a guy, so why wouldn’t her pounding pulse calm the hell down?

He stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Broad chest dusted in hair. Strong arms. Delineated six-pack. Wow.

They gawked at each other for several seconds, his lopsided smile not what she’d hoped for when he first saw her semi-naked. His fingers toyed with the knot holding the towel up, and her breath caught as he undid it.

Her gaze riveted to that towel, and when he whipped it away with a flourish she didn’t know whether to laugh or be disappointed.

“You seemed a bit freaked before, so I thought I might lighten the moment.” He flung the towel away and did a bow. “Here I am, for your viewing pleasure.”

This amazing man, standing in tight cotton boxers with his arms flung wide, had done this for her. He’d wanted to put her at ease. She wanted to hug him. But first, she had naughtier things in mind.

“You want me to objectify you?”

“Please.” With a grin, he lowered his arms and snapped the elastic of his boxers. “But hey, I saved the best bit for you to unwrap.”

She laughed, unable to remember the last time she felt this playful before sex. She’d been raised to present the perfect front, even before her diagnosis, so getting naked with someone always involved a lot of forethought for her. Had she waxed, exfoliated, moisturized? Was she wearing the right underwear? Was she thin enough, pretty enough?

Then Colin had seen the real her, and nothing mattered anymore. All the preparation in the world meant little when white patches on your skin made you look like one of those patchy cows.

These days, she did all the usual maintenance—waxing, et cetera—but it was for her. She didn’t need a man for validation. But with Manny staring at her like he wanted to gobble her whole, she realized she’d missed this. Missed being appreciated. Missed being adored.

She hoped he intended on adoring her all night, repeatedly.

“Come here,” she said, beckoning him. “Time for me to unwrap my present.”

“I can barely see you,” he said, pretending to flail his arms around blindly as he walked toward her.

“All the better to feel your way.”

And that’s exactly what she did when he got close enough: put her hands all over him. His chest. His shoulders. His waist.

“Don’t move,” she murmured. “Let me feel you.”

He inhaled sharply as she slid her palms over every contour, exploring every