The erratic thump, thump, thump of her heartbeat echoed in her ears like the roar of a 747 on takeoff. Without a word to her, Pete had paid for the room with a wad of cash, ushered her inside, then announced he needed a quick shower. And since he’d disappeared behind the bathroom door, she’d been staring at the sheets in front of her, thinking of the hundreds of times they’d lain together, right up until the end. Then, it had been right. Now? Now she didn’t know what the heck was happening.
When had he changed his mind about what he wanted from her? Yeah, he’d been primed in the strip club, but that wasn’t her doing. That was because of little-miss-blonde-big-boobs. The man had made it more than obvious every chance he got that he clearly couldn’t stand her anymore. So what was this? A pity fuck? A way to work off some tension? Or was it simply a way to prove to her he was calling the shots now, and she’d better shape up and listen?
Her pulse skyrocketed again at just the thought of being dominated by him. On her back, tied down. On her hands and knees, pinned from behind. Didn’t really matter how or where, the end result was always the same.
Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she lifted a shaky hand, wiped her fingers across her brow. Okay, now she was officially sick. Because even though she knew this—whatever he planned to do to her on that one, lone bed—wasn’t about rekindling an old romance or even attempting some sort of reconciliation, she knew she wasn’t going to say no to him.
She closed her eyes, breathed deep, and told herself she should walk out now. Forget about waiting for him to fall asleep. There was something about Peter Kauffman that made her knees weak, made her rethink simple logic, made her bend every one of her rules. He’d done that to her in Cairo years ago. He was doing it to her again now.
The water shut off, and a crackling sound followed, like the shower curtain being pulled back.
Kat stiffened and realized she’d been standing in the same place for the last ten minutes. She needed to get a hold of herself. Lifting her hands to her cheeks, she felt the heat there and knew Pete was going to see it as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom.
Please don’t let him walk out of that bathroom naked.
The door pulled open before she could move, and a wave of heat and steam preceded him as he eased into the bedroom. She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Ivory soap and sweet, wet male skin, and dared one quick look his way. Then wished she hadn’t.
His chest was bare. Light from the bedside lamp glinted off his hard, firm abs. Her eyes dropped lower, to his belly button and the thin line of hair that narrowed and darkened, pointing like a flashing arrow downward until it disappeared beneath the waistband of the same low-slung, worn denim jeans he’d been wearing earlier. As heat rushed back into her cheeks, she dropped her eyes to the floor and noticed his bare feet peeking out from beneath the frayed cuffs.
Oh, Lord, even his toes were gorgeous.
Not good. Not. Good. At. All.
He rubbed a towel over his hair, mopping up water, then down over the nape of his neck. “Shower’s all yours. I washed out my shirt, laid it over the towel bar to dry. Until we can hit a mall or something tomorrow, we’ll have to make do.”
Kat’s eyes flashed back to his bare chest. Make do? Oh, man. She was almost afraid to ask what he meant by that.
He tipped his head, eyed her with a quizzical expression. “You got something on your mind?”
Kat gave her head a small shake. Tried like hell not to blush again. No luck. She could literally feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “What? No. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a few.”
Happy for the brief escape, she made sure to take a wide berth around him and slipped into the bathroom. Since there was no lock on the door, she silently cursed that he could walk in on her at any moment but figured he probably wouldn’t. No, he wanted her to sweat, which was exactly what she was doing, wasn’t she? Whatever he had planned was going to happen out there. In