Part 9 (2/2)
That made her look harder, and sure enough, the tightly wrapped towel now showed things she'd be better off not seeing.
”Yvette,” he said again, this time with gravelly insistence.
Realization of her rudeness. .h.i.t and she pivoted fast to face the door. But...then what? She faced a closed door. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
”The back view is nice, too.”
No way could she ignore that tempting admission. But when she looked over her shoulder at him, he still faced her. ”I can't see the back.”
”No.” On a low laugh, he nodded at her rear end. ”I meant yours.”
Slapping her hands over her b.u.t.t, she turned away again. If nothing else, it hid her burning face and kept her from visually molesting him.
And, darn it, now she became the recipient of a hot stare. ”This isn't at all proper.”
”I remember a time,” he said, closer to her, ”when you weren't all that worried about being proper.”
She'd been young and foolish. ”I shouldn't have stared and I'm sorry.”
”Don't be. I'm not.”
Knowing she had to get hold of herself and the situation, she staged a friendly expression and cautiously turned back to him. Utilizing Herculean effort, she kept her attention above his sternum. ”It's hardly my fault with you standing there, flaunting yourself like that.”
”I don't flaunt.” He made a rude sound of denial. ”I'm just standing here.”
Looking as he did, that was enough. ”You aren't decently dressed.”
”I'd just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang.”
”Well.” He'd offered her the perfect excuse for fleeing. ”I'll just let you finish getting ready-”
Before she could take a single step, he moved, and she got caught up watching the muscles in his bared body flex as he closed the small amount of s.p.a.ce left between them.
She was hot, sweaty and suddenly mute.
When he reached out, she flattened against the door and almost squawked, it so surprised her.
”You're afraid of me?”
Her turn to scoff. ”No, never.”
Cannon paused for only a second before nodding with satisfaction. ”Good.” Gently catching her hand, he tugged her forward and started toward the kitchen.
Going along without complaint, Yvette tried to collect herself, but couldn't.
He was right-the back view was freaking awesome.
Long muscles moved with each step he took. Water glistened on his shoulders. His still-wet hair sent a trickle down the deep furrow of his spine.
And that little damp towel... How she envied it. Wrapped around his hips, it hugged his b.u.t.t, showcasing the tight muscles there.
A big bubble of heat popped inside her, flus.h.i.+ng her whole body. ”Mmm, what are we doing?”
”Going into the kitchen.”
”Why?”
”We need to talk.” He looked over that boulder shoulder at her. ”And I don't want you sneaking off again.”
”I didn't sneak.” Liar. ”I just went for my morning jog.”
”For more than two hours?” Pulling out two vinylcovered chairs from her grandfather's refurbished kitchen table, he gestured for her to sit.
Since her legs were quivering from exhaustion, ready to give out anyway, she dropped down.
”I didn't know you jogged.” His bright blue gaze moved over her, probably seeing her perspiration-soaked clothes and s.h.i.+ny, flushed skin. ”Need something to drink?”
She needed him to get some pants on before she fainted. ”No, I'm fine.” Determined to be as blase as him, she unhooked the belted purse from around her waist, removing the empty water bottle from the loop that held it, putting that and her cell phone on the tabletop.
Cannon gave her a long look, turned to the refrigerator and took out an icy bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and set it in front of her. ”You're pretty wilted. Drink up.”
Wilted-what a nice way to put it. Reminded of how wretched she looked, she started to stand. ”I need a shower.”
A hand on her shoulder pressed her back. His tone even and cool, Cannon said, ”Let's talk first.”
He literally loomed over her with all that naked flesh up close and personal. She was eye level with a small brown nipple, with the spa.r.s.e dark hair on his chest. She could smell his soap and something more. Something hot and s.e.xy and all male.
Curling her hands into fists, she resisted the powerful urge to touch him. But that didn't stop her from looking- at his throat, over his collarbone, those sculpted pecs...
”You're doing it again.”
”What?” she breathed in a strangled whisper.
His other hand flattened on the table beside her, caging her in. ”Eating me up with those pretty green eyes.”
She'd prefer to eat him up with her teeth, her tongue... . ”Put on more clothes and I won't stare!”
Contentment showed in his eyes. ”I will.”
Thank G.o.d.
”After we talk.”
Trying to find her backbone, she straightened in the chair and put a hand to his chest-his hot, hard, naked chest-to lever him back a few inches. ”You're acting too familiar, Cannon.” She had to concentrate hard to keep her fingers from caressing. ”Like we're involved or something.”
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