Macy could practically hear Tim thinking. She’d woken the instant his breathing changed, trying not to change her own breathing as he woke slowly and reacted to the choices she’d made for him.
That single long tantalizing stroke of his hand down and back up her body had been electric. His hands were callus-rough and Tim-gentle; even with such a simple gesture, no one had ever touched her quite like that. It felt as if he wasn’t just appreciating a female form, but the woman inside as well. Her.
She knew his choice the moment he buried his face in her hair and she wanted to get up and do a happy dance.
And a case of jitters slammed in with it. What had she done? This was Tim Harada. Her closest childhood friend, her romantic hero from every girlhood fancy, and in town for only five more
