cut from the mattress to him. And she knew she was stuck. When he lay back on the pillow again and crossed his bare feet at the ankles, she flicked the bathroom light off and walked around the bed to the far side.
Okay. She could do this. Lie here beside him. Not think about touching him or kissing him or having wild jungle sex with him. She was tough, after all. She’d proved it over the past six years, hadn’t she?
Her pack hit the floor with a soft thud as she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. The mattress was firm, and she gave it a bounce to see if it softened. No luck.
Carefully, she eased back on the pillow, well on her side of the bed and away from Pete’s near nakedness. She lay still, listening to his breathing, waiting for it to deepen and indicate he was asleep.
It took forever. While she waited, she quietly crossed her arms over her chest, dropped them to her side, folded them over her middle. She was hot. It was too damn warm in the room, and her skin felt prickly. She eyed the heater and thought about getting up and turning it off.
No, she’d just live with it. If he was starting to drift off, she didn’t want to do anything to rouse him.
She blew out a long breath and crossed her feet. Uncrossed them. Her skin itched, and she reached up to scratch her arms. Then her side. Her thighs. She thought about the mattress they were sleeping on. The run-down motel. How many other people had slept in this same room. What lived on the mattress.
Damn. This wasn’t working.
Before she could stop herself she jumped up, reached for the edge of the fitted sheet and pulled it back from the corner of the mattress.
Pete eased up on his elbows, looking irritated beyond belief. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just…”
The mattress was clean. She checked the edges. The creases. Pulled the sheet far enough back to look under where her pillow lay.
“Kat?”
Nothing.
She retucked the sheet. “I watched a special on 60 Minutes about bedbugs in motels.” She reached for the flimsy faux wood headboard. “They’re often massed behind the—”
She pulled the headboard away from the wall, half expecting to see it alive with creepy-crawlies, but there was nothing.
“Kat, lie down.”
She stared at the headboard some more. Bit her lip. Felt like crawling out of her own skin.
God, this was awful.
“Kat.” He sat up straighter. And softened his voice enough to make her look his way. “Come back to bed. Nothing’s going to bite you. Not even me. I promise.”
Dammit. He knew what was bothering her. And she was a complete idiot for letting it get to her like this.
Thankful he couldn’t see her bright red cheeks, she settled back onto the mattress, knowing there was no way in hell she’d be able to sleep.
She closed her eyes tight. Opened them. Bit her lip hard so she couldn’t sigh and stared at the ceiling.
“Ditching the shoes might help,” he said into the dark.
Right. Yeah. Like shoes on wasn’t a dead giveaway she was ready to bolt.
Kat toed them off and sat up to move them by her pack on the floor. She lay down again. Waited. Rolled to her side. Eased onto her belly. Rolled back again as quietly as she could.
Oh, man. This just wasn’t working.
The sheets rustled as Pete moved on his side of the bed. Then she felt him scoot close to her. Her adrenaline jumped, and she stilled quickly.
“Lift your head.”
Not knowing what he wanted, she obeyed, all sorts of thoughts going through her head. Was he giving her his pillow? Taking hers away? Kicking her out of the bed after all because she kept tossing around like a mix-master?
Then she felt his arm slide under her nape, and he pulled her close so she was suddenly snuggled up to his side.
He was warm and hard against her skin, yet safe and unbelievably comfortable. And when he tugged her closer so her head rested against his chest, she didn’t fight it. Instead she let out a little sigh of contentment and finally felt her body begin to relax.
It was wrong on so many levels, but oh, it felt right.
His hand ran over her hair in a soft, barely there caress. “Close your eyes. You need sleep.”
She was suddenly more tired than she’d been in years, the weight of every one of her