Echo sat on the edge of the bed, munching the last of her toasted raisin bran muffin as she watched Sean from the corner of an eye, sopping up egg yolk with a piece of toast.
He sat on the bed beside her, not indecently close, but close enough for his body heat to inundate her senses. Several inches away and she still felt like he was enveloping her--inside and out--the two of them melding into one. The fact that he was sitting there in just a towel, with nary a barrier more substantial than a strip of terry around his waist, didn't ease her discomfit. Forget the fact that the man was the father of her child, for Chrissakes, and that she knew every inch of his body as if it were her own-at least she used to. She was thrown by the idea of being alone in a hotel room with an irresistible, near naked man, despite him being one with whom she shared an intimate history.
God, what had she been thinking bringing him back here? Like she would have been any less on edge at the bed and breakfast? She didn't think so.
Sean reached across Echo for his o.j.. His closest shoulder just brushed the sleeve of her chambray shirt as he lifted his glass from the serving tray, and it was as if a lighted match had penetrated the material to sear her skin beneath.
She leaned into him, his warmth summoning her as it had a thousand lifetimes ago, as it always would. When she glanced at his lap and saw the swelling under the white terry, Echo knew that he wasn't anymore immune to her than she was to him. She took the glass from him, rose to her knees beside him on the bed, thought to tip the scales in her favor. Then she noticed the tiny gold freight train dangling from an expensive chain around his neck and her heart caught. Maybe the scales were already tipped and she didn't know it.
Encouraged, she replaced the glass to the tray, eased a palm to the quickly increasing bulge beneath his towel, brazenly caressing him through the still-damp terry.
Sean watched her, rooted to the spot, his sharp intake of breath the only indication he hadn't died.
Echo took his inaction as permission and guided him up to his knees to face her. He followed her lead willingly. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing close to feel his tumescence flush. When Sean pulled her tight against him and buried his face in her hair and throat, liquid fire sliced through her belly.
She pulled back, sliding a foil pack out of her vest pocket, ready to make this happen.
Sean arched a brow, smiling as she tore into the pack with her teeth and fingers. "Room Service?"
"I took it out of your wallet before I sent your clothes down to be cleaned, smarty." Echo searched his face for embarrassment or indignation and found neither. Blushing at her own boldness, she pushed the envelope further. "Any objections?"
"Not a one, darlin'."