Not likely.
He stood in the entry next to Wolly, both of them staring down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Josh had left Adelyn a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. His own, of course; he had nothing else to give her.
“I’m back,” he called. Not too loud. Didn’t want to seem like he thought she would care, but he didn’t want to scare her either.
“Josh?”
Wolly pricked his ears, and Josh almost thought his did the same. It was the first time she had said his name aloud, and the single syllable—even partly muffled by the doorway between them—reverberated in his body like a hammer strike on an anvil.
Her voice continued, getting a little louder. “I was wondering...”
She stepped out from the master bedroom. Light from his bedroom poured through the doorway and turned the air around her damp skin into a misty halo.
And apparently sucked all the moisture from his mouth. He swallowed hard against his tight throat.
She hadn’t used the towel he left out for her. She had wrapped herself in his towel, which had seemingly shrunk since his last use. It strained across her breasts and barely skimmed her lush thighs. Against the pale fluff of cotton, her dusky skin looked like some rich, sweet, decadent, caramel coffee drink that no cowboy should drink.
But he was so damn thirsty.
She held her hand out toward him. “I need you for a moment, Josh.”
Considering the way his cock was pounding a countdown on his zipper, a moment was about all she’d get from him. But he could not resist, not with the scent of her water-warmed body drifting toward him. He padded down the hall, his steps silent on the smooth old wood.
Her green gaze teased him beneath her dark lashes, but she did not lower her hand. “Here.” She backed into the bedroom. He followed as if a rein stretched between them.
She turned to the bed, drenched in snow-bounced sun from the window and big skylight. His entire body shook with disbelief. Was he dreaming?