He paused as he realized what he was saying.He liked his own things.
And Gemma would like her own things, too.
He winced.
She snuggled into him again, which made the guilt ebb. Also made him wonder where else he could carry her, just so she could keep cuddling against him.
Sadly, if she woke to him randomly carrying her around, he’d deserve that punch in the gut.
He settled her into her bed. As he tugged up the coverlet, she caught his hand and held it.
“I like your hands,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.
“My hands?” he murmured.
“Hot,” she said.
“My hands are too hot?”
“All of you. Definitely too hot.” She sighed in her sleep.
He finally realized what she was saying, and a slow grin spread across his face. Okay, that wasnotwhat he expected. He’d made the dumbass move of looking up a photo of Gemma’s ex, and sincethen, he’d been reminding himself that looks weren’t everything and maybe she’d be up for a change of pace?
But she’d just called him hot.
Gemma Stanton thought he was hot.
Toohot.
He grinned. Oh, he could use that. He could definitely use that.
He tucked her in, and she immediately burrowed down into the bed. Then he leaned over and whispered, “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” before slipping from the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
GEMMA
Gemma was dreaming about Mason, damn it. She’d had many such dreams in the past week. Some took place in that cove along the coast. Some were on his motorcycle. Some were in his condo, starting with that bathroom door opening. One had even been at the hockey game, in a conveniently located closet, before he’d even taken off his uniform.
Such were the perils of being a romance writer. Her imagination got creative. Very creative.
The latest variation involved that circular sofa outside, and Mason in wet swim trunks that left nothing to the imagination. Water glistened down his chest and legs as he crossed the sand to where she lounged. Then he crawled atop her, grinning down, dripping warm water as his lips came toward hers—
A noise had her half rousing from sleep, and while her brain wanted to seize on that and pull herself out, like a swimmer thrown a life buoy, the rest of her said the water was just fine and lulled her back under.
Fantasy Mason’s hands slid up her bare sides and toyed with the straps of her bikini top, teasing her, the smell of him enoughto drive her mad, and she arched up into him as he chuckled and whispered—
“Gem? You awake?”
She jumped, clutching the covers to her chest like a shy maiden. That’s when she noticed light streaming through the window.
A tap at her door.
“Gem?” Mason whispered.
“Hmm?” she managed.
“I’m going to take a shower. I wanted to make sure you didn’t need the bathroom first.”