Meg retreated to the guest room. She sat on the edge of the bed and
covered her burning face with her hands. Why hadn’t she grabbed her robe before
answering his cry for help? The shout had been so full of panic and desperation
she’d feared he’d fallen out of bed. Why wasn’t she like Allie who wore overly
large jerseys for bed? Meg knew the answer. She loved the feel of silk against
her skin. At least this one was opaque. Why had she felt naked beneath his stare?
His gaze had sent embers glowing low in her belly.
She groaned. Just down the hall was a man with who had caused her to
shiver with desire. He was ready for hot and heavy. She’d seen the way his
erection had tented the sheets. She had to remain cool. She was tired of
walking in the wrong direction on a one way street.
She slid beneath the sheets and added new rules specific to this
situation. One. Do not think about the
kiss making you burn and your toes curl. Two. Do not drool over his buff body.
Three. Do not give into the itch to stroke his tanned skin. Four. Do not
consider passionate love-making.
Except she wanted to break the rules. She closed her eyes. As she drifted
to sleep she recited her old rules and added the new.
My Places
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