Shannon swallowed, the burning ache deep inside her unsettling.
He wasn’t boyfriend material, and she couldn’t afford to let her mind go down that road.
“Next, you’ll be asking if it was the best sex of my life,” she replied, forcing the words out as she tried to steady the rush of emotions still swirling inside her.
Her gaze lingered as he pulled on a pair of bright red boxer briefs, the fabric hugging the curve of his ass, accentuating the bulge of his dick. The waistband rose midway to his hips, settling on the taut muscles of his thighs.
He pulled on his jeans, covering the perfect lines of his body, and a sharp pang of regret shot through her. That was it. Their one-night stand, done. His curiosity had been satisfied, and now he’d move on.
Just like that.
He left his shirt unbuttoned, strolling to the kitchen, his strides confident.
“I think we bothknowit was the best sex of your life, love.”
She grabbed her scattered clothes, hurrying past him toward the bedroom door.
“I’ll be out in a sec,” she muttered, closing the door behind her, creating the space she needed to catch her breath.
Of course, it had been the best sex she’d ever had.That wasn’t up for debate. The way he moved, the way he owned her pleasure.
How could she even compare her ex to someone like Jamie?
Niall never asked if she was okay afterward. He never offered her water, never even spared her a thought once the heat cooled.
Jamie didn’t just take. No, he actually checked in, read her breath, her body, like it meant something. Like she meant something.
And that scared her.
Because this was casual. No promises. No strings. Just one wild moment with a man who didn’t owe her a damn thing…
Rummaging through her drawers, she picked out a pair of running shorts and slipped them on, leaving behind her old, comfy cotton knickers.
The idea of him rushing out while she was getting changed tugged at something in her chest.
She tried to convince herself it wouldn’t matter if he was gone by the time she made it back to the kitchen. But there was a flicker of hope, a quiet wish that maybe, just maybe, he’d still be there.
Why did she care?
The thought unnerved her, the idea of him leaving gave her a weird ache in her chest.
Pulling on a clean white tank top, she raked her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath and opened the door.
And there he stood, leaning against the counter, histoned chest on display, his hair tousled just the way she liked, eyes glinting with that mischievous spark.
“For a moment there, I thought you wanted me to find you on the bed wearing nothing but high heels,” he teased, his voice smooth. “Or you were hiding until I left.”
She took a steadying breath, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
He stayed. Heactuallystayed.
The tanned fantasy loitering in her kitchen stirred something deep in her, a rush of desire she needed to ignore. And the urge to kiss the irresistible dimple on his cheek was almost unbearable.
“If I offer lunch, I keep my word,” she replied, trying to hide the fluttering in her chest, aware of his gaze lingering on her tank top, probably noting she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“And I’m looking forward to it,” he said, casually sipping water from a coffee mug. “Haven’t had a proper bacon butty since I was a kid. I hope it’s worth the wait.”
“Believe me, it’ll blow your mind,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I might not be able to cook up a five-course meal, but I sure as hell can make a killer bacon sandwich.”
