Night with Sole Regret

TIE ME V

“I hope they fit,” she said. Actually, she hoped they were skintight and aided her imagination.

He jerked his head and settled his gaze on her. His smile returned.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the thin pair of shorts she held in his direction.

“There are towels in the cabinet over the toilet,” she said and nodded toward the half bathroom next to the stairs.

“Thanks,” he said again and hurried to the bathroom. Her appreciative gaze settled on his muscular back as he walked away. She did have a thing for a sexy male back and they didn’t get much sexier than Kellen’s. Would he let her caress the lines of that tattoo? Maybe he would if she found the courage to make a move on him instead of staring after him as he disappeared into the bathroom.

That was a big if.

“You’re too much of a chicken to make the first move,” she chastised herself under her breath. But she hoped he wasn’t.

Kellen entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. What the f**k was he doing flirting with a woman he’d just met, promising his libido something he had no intension of delivering? He’d let his guard down with this one. He couldn’t let it happen again.

He caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink and winced. Lord, no wonder Dawn had thought he was up to no good when she’d seen him on the beach. He looked like some pirate who jumped ship and swam ashore to avoid punishment for stealing the booty.

He had no plans to take any booty tonight, even if Dawn placed hers directly into his hands. And if he kept coming on to her the way he had been since she invited him into the house, he was pretty sure she would be prepared to do exactly that.

He struggled out of his wet jeans, leaving another puddle on Dawn’s floor, and found a towel to dry his hair, legs, and the rest of his body, taking note of a certain stiffness he was not prepared to deal with. Apparently he’d been lying about his shrinkage issue. How was he going to pull off a pair of thin boxer shorts with a semi?

He tugged the boxers up his thighs and hips, then peered down at his crotch and groaned at the spectacle he was making of himself.

“Down, boy,” he said and tucked his far too sensitive c**k down the leg of the shorts. “I know she’s hot, but you can’t have her.”

He pressed on the obvious bulge in his shorts. Her shorts, he reminded himself. Did she wear panties under them or had these recently been against her bare flesh? What did the hidden treasure between her thighs smell like? Taste like? His mouth watered, and he swallowed before giving himself a mental shake.

Snap out of it, stupid.

Great. Now his bulge was a full-blown, burgundy-and-blue-plaid tent.

Shit.

Maybe he should put his jeans back on and tell her the boxers were too small. They were definitely form-fitting, and his condition made them downright uncomfortable. Or maybe he should jerk one out real quick so he could think about something other than f*****g a sensual redhead into a coma. Or maybe he should wrap Sara’s wrist cuff around his misbehaving c**k as a reminder that when he’d committed to her, he’d promised to never have s*x with another woman. Ever. Or maybe his big head should remind his smaller head who was in charge here.

Who was in charge here?

Kellen settled for imagining the pair of drunk girls who’d been trying to get him into bed the night before. It took a minute, but his remembered disinterest did the trick on his libido. Mostly. It was only after he had his wayward c**k somewhat under control that he realized the borrowed shorts didn’t have a pocket to hold his recently removed wrist cuff.

Double s**t.

He retrieved the leather band from his jeans and stared down at it. The urge to return it to his wrist overwhelmed him. He still had a cuff on his other wrist, but it wasn’t a reminder of Sara, so it didn’t count. He’d bought that one at the mall when he was sixteen and thought it made him cool. It held no emotional significance, was just an ordinary scrap of leather. But the one he’d removed earlier possessed the ability to yank his head out of the clouds and return his feet firmly to the ground.

He hoped.

Perhaps the best thing to do was leave Dawn’s house as soon as possible. Why’d he come here anyway?

Dawn’s song. The melody played through his head, and he smiled. That song possessed a power all its own.

He wanted to hear it again. Wanted to watch her play it for him. For as jumbled and confused as Kellen’s thoughts were now, her song had given him a moment of peace and clarity. Even if it was a temporary condition, he wanted those feelings again. He needed them. Even more than he needed Sara’s reminder on his wrist.

“Coffee’s ready,” Dawn called. “How do you take it?”

Jeez, the bathroom door was thin.

Triple s**t.

Had she heard him talking to himself about her hotness?

“Black!” he called, glad he’d decided against jerking one out. What if she’d heard him gasping and moaning through the door? She already suspected him of being a dangerous criminal. If she’d discovered him m**********g in her spotlessly clean bathroom, she’d have pegged him as a depraved p*****t as well.

Kellen tugged a brush through his hair until it lay flat, resting against his shoulders. He hoped she didn’t mind sharing such a personal item as a hairbrush with him. Maybe it wasn’t hers and had come with the house. Kellen checked to make sure he wasn’t sporting wood again, shoved the wrist cuff into his jeans pocket, and retrieved his wet towel from the floor. He gave the cuff one last squeeze, took a deep, calming breath, and then opened the door.

The bathroom faced the kitchen, so there was no missing her. Dawn stood leaning back against the counter, sipping from a cream-colored coffee cup. There was something intensely erotic about the way she encircled the cup with both hands and brought it to her mouth as she watched him over the rim. Those hypnotic hazel eyes. All that thick red hair. That loose, white dress. Her bare feet with ten perfectly manicured hot-pink toenails peeking from beneath the hem of her long skirt. Everything about her was erotic, and she wasn’t even trying. His c**k throbbed in appreciation of her femininity.

Should have jerked one out after all.

Walking awkwardly, Kellen clutched his laundry to his waist, hoping to hide what was going on in his shorts.

Her shorts.

Fuck! Stop thinking like that, moron. You’re going to rip her shorts in half if you get any harder. How are you going to explain that to her?

Excuse me, Dawn. I seem to have damaged your shorts with my raging hard-on. Do you have something a bit hardier I could wear? Perhaps something made of thick leather or stainless steel.

“Do you want me to throw your jeans in the dryer?” she asked.

“No thanks.” He didn’t want her to discover the wrist cuff hidden in his pocket, and he needed the jeans to shield his arousal.

Dawn turned and lifted a red cup from the counter. She walked toward him and offered him the coffee. Squashing his jeans and towel against his belly with one hand, Kellen extended his free hand to accept the cup.

“Thanks,” he said. Damn, his voice sounded all gruff and slightly breathless. Was she aware of the not-so-little problem going on behind a pair of wadded-up jeans and a damp towel? Did she have any idea how much he wanted to lift her up on the counter and f**k her until he couldn’t think straight enough to feel guilty about breaking his vow to Sara?

Dawn stared into his eyes and brushed her fingers over his in a slow, sensual caress as she handed off the cup. She wasn’t making his devotion to abstinence easy, that was for sure.

A spattering of freckles graced the bridge of her nose, and thick, dark eyelashes made the green flecks in her hazel eyes stand out. He tried not to look at her pouty lips and wonder what she tasted like. Did she enjoy soft, gentle kisses or did she prefer the deep, plundering assault on her mouth that he craved? He wanted to sink his hands into all those thick, red curls, tilt her head back and… and…

Small talk! He needed to make small talk.

“So where are you from?” he asked.

She blinked and took a startled breath. Was she thinking along the same lines he was? He really needed her to be a frigid b***h at the moment, but doubted she was the type. The vibe she gave off was warm and inviting. He couldn’t remember the last timed he’d wanted to be invited into a woman’s warmth, all slick and hot and snug. His c**k throbbed with interest.