back. He was doing his best to make her comfortable. The least she could do is acknowledge his efforts. “Seriously, thank you. A real bed sounds like heaven.”
She retrieved a towel from the bathroom and flung it over his head, forcing him to stoop as she sponged the freezing cold water from his hair and neck.
"The windows," he muttered.
She moved to close the blinds as he took over drying himself off.
“You can have first shower,” he suggested.
“No way. You can’t protect and serve if you’re sick.”
His dark brow quirked suggestively. “Serve?”
“We are on our honeymoon.”
Damian flashed her sexiest ghost of a grin she had ever seen then crossed the tiny, shared space to the bathroom. The awakening shower faucet sounded like he had started a wrestling match with a tuba-playing troll.
Alexa laughed. She pressed her own towel to her streaming hair and surveyed the room: one wire clothes hangar populating the closet; a cheap lasso decoration nailed to the wall; a mounted and framed sketch of a cowboy with an unfortunate case of bowed legs; and a Bible and fundamentalist leaflet in the top bureau drawer next to the card with pay-per-view porn instructions. Everything else was either chargeable to the room or nailed to the floor.
She removed Damian's coat and hung it on the chair. As she peeled off her sweatshirt, the cold fabric slogged across her shoulder blades. She winced. Goosebumps raked her skin. Despite the additional layers, her tank top was soaked through completely. She was in the process of pluck it away from her breasts when Damian reentered the room.
Alexa glanced up, startled.
He looked equally surprised. A bath towel rode low on his hips and hung off his V-line in a way that seemed somehow more indecent than if he had exited the bathroom wearing nothing at all. She stared at the man's naked torso, unable to tear her eyes away to even feign disinterest. In contrast to his broad, sculpted shoulders, Damian's waist was narrow and defined by a six-pack that almost looked painted-on. His chest was devoid of hair but a dusting of dark hair curled at his navel and offered an enticing treasure trail down, down…
God, almighty. She’s been staring at his crotch.
Alexa averted her eyes and walked briskly past him to the bathroom. Any tongue-in-cheek comment she might have made on his appearance died on her tongue, along with her voice. There was nothing funny about Damian Stone standing half-naked in front of her.
Was he doing this on purpose? Was this revenge for the way she had conducted herself the night before? Alexa endured the tuba-playing troll again and tested the water with her hand until steam gathered in the corner by the mirror. She stripped off her remaining clothes and drew the curtain closed behind her as if she could draw it across the scene. She had been looking forward to a hot shower all day, but a cold one felt far more appropriate right now.
"Alexa?" Damian’s muffled voice came from behind the closed door.
Alexa went rigid beneath the jet of water. Her arms came up to cover her chest then her bikini line before she remembered the shower curtain.
"Yes?" she called.
The bathroom door creaked open.
She couldn’t breathe.
"Sorry… I think I left the phone in here." Damian mumbled as he entered, his voice clear and so, so close, just beyond the thin, plastic barrier.
Alexa retreated back to the far corner of the shower, watching his shadow as it moved about the space. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. What if he joined her in the shower? Would she let him?
“Found it.” He left the room as rapidly as he had entered it, slamming the door shut behind him, no doubt to signal her that she was alone again.
Alexa exhaled deeply, though it felt more like frustration than relief.
Mid-shower, she realized she forgot fresh clothes.
Damn his fine body.
She lathered up, rinsed, then exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, the second bath towel wrapped around her
She retrieved a towel from the bathroom and flung it over his head, forcing him to stoop as she sponged the freezing cold water from his hair and neck.
"The windows," he muttered.
She moved to close the blinds as he took over drying himself off.
“You can have first shower,” he suggested.
“No way. You can’t protect and serve if you’re sick.”
His dark brow quirked suggestively. “Serve?”
“We are on our honeymoon.”
Damian flashed her sexiest ghost of a grin she had ever seen then crossed the tiny, shared space to the bathroom. The awakening shower faucet sounded like he had started a wrestling match with a tuba-playing troll.
Alexa laughed. She pressed her own towel to her streaming hair and surveyed the room: one wire clothes hangar populating the closet; a cheap lasso decoration nailed to the wall; a mounted and framed sketch of a cowboy with an unfortunate case of bowed legs; and a Bible and fundamentalist leaflet in the top bureau drawer next to the card with pay-per-view porn instructions. Everything else was either chargeable to the room or nailed to the floor.
She removed Damian's coat and hung it on the chair. As she peeled off her sweatshirt, the cold fabric slogged across her shoulder blades. She winced. Goosebumps raked her skin. Despite the additional layers, her tank top was soaked through completely. She was in the process of pluck it away from her breasts when Damian reentered the room.
Alexa glanced up, startled.
He looked equally surprised. A bath towel rode low on his hips and hung off his V-line in a way that seemed somehow more indecent than if he had exited the bathroom wearing nothing at all. She stared at the man's naked torso, unable to tear her eyes away to even feign disinterest. In contrast to his broad, sculpted shoulders, Damian's waist was narrow and defined by a six-pack that almost looked painted-on. His chest was devoid of hair but a dusting of dark hair curled at his navel and offered an enticing treasure trail down, down…
God, almighty. She’s been staring at his crotch.
Alexa averted her eyes and walked briskly past him to the bathroom. Any tongue-in-cheek comment she might have made on his appearance died on her tongue, along with her voice. There was nothing funny about Damian Stone standing half-naked in front of her.
Was he doing this on purpose? Was this revenge for the way she had conducted herself the night before? Alexa endured the tuba-playing troll again and tested the water with her hand until steam gathered in the corner by the mirror. She stripped off her remaining clothes and drew the curtain closed behind her as if she could draw it across the scene. She had been looking forward to a hot shower all day, but a cold one felt far more appropriate right now.
"Alexa?" Damian’s muffled voice came from behind the closed door.
Alexa went rigid beneath the jet of water. Her arms came up to cover her chest then her bikini line before she remembered the shower curtain.
"Yes?" she called.
The bathroom door creaked open.
She couldn’t breathe.
"Sorry… I think I left the phone in here." Damian mumbled as he entered, his voice clear and so, so close, just beyond the thin, plastic barrier.
Alexa retreated back to the far corner of the shower, watching his shadow as it moved about the space. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. What if he joined her in the shower? Would she let him?
“Found it.” He left the room as rapidly as he had entered it, slamming the door shut behind him, no doubt to signal her that she was alone again.
Alexa exhaled deeply, though it felt more like frustration than relief.
Mid-shower, she realized she forgot fresh clothes.
Damn his fine body.
She lathered up, rinsed, then exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, the second bath towel wrapped around her
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