Bedded by Her Bodyguard(18)

Unable to help herself, though, she peeked through her lashes to glimpse Isaac walking around the bed to her side, and her heart skipped a few beats. Above her he braced one hand on the headboard, giving her a fine view of his taut triceps. With his other hand he reached for the lamp chain, but he paused. She held her breath. Please, please touch me, hold me, kiss me.

He glanced down at her with those impossible-to-read dark eyes. She lifted her lashes. Their stares held and she lost herself in the inky spheres.

A soft smile of regret touched his lips. “Good night, Mindy.”

When he pulled the chain, the room plunged into darkness. Then she heard him walk back to his side of the bed. She released the breath she’d been holding, masking the sound with a yawn. The blankets rustled and the mattress dipped with his weight. The cool sheets instantly warmed with his body heat. Oh, that gorgeous body.

Stiff as a board, she lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Every sound and movement heightened her awareness of him. She yearned for the accidental brush of his hand on her skin. The slightest invitation for her to roll into his arms and find his lips in the dark. She knew he would be an amazing kisser. Some men just gave off that uber-sensual vibe and radiated smooth seductiveness.

The thought of his tongue gliding against hers sent a shiver from her scalp to her toes. She bit the insides of her cheeks to contain a wistful groan.

“You cold?” he asked. “Here, you can have the comforter.” An extra layer draped over her. “I’ve been told I’m a restless sleeper. I tend to kick off the covers anyway.”

He’d been told…no doubt by the countless women he’d taken to bed. The heat glowing within her cooled several degrees. Why couldn’t she be one of those women? Was she that unappealing to him?

Once again, an ego-bruising Helenism stabbed at her, but she shut down the thought before it had the chance to fully form. Her mother may have syndicated advice columns in popular magazines and newspapers, but right now Mindy didn’t want to hear it.

They lay silently for awhile.

Isaac tossed and turned and then announced, “I can’t do this.”

“Wh-what?” He couldn’t even stand to be in the same bed with her?

“I can’t sleep in a shirt. I’m not used to feeling confined.”

“It’s okay. I can’t sleep in pants or I get that restless legs thing.” She realized her statement informed him that she wore only her underwear and the camisole beneath the covers, and he might not want that image floating in his head as he went to sleep.

“Thanks for understanding,” he said in a slightly strangled voice.

The bed creaked when he sat up. She heard the stretch of fabric as he pulled his shirt over his head, faint whoosh when it hit the floor.

The scent of his freshly washed skin drifted to her, taunting her. She went weak with yearning, glad for the firm mattress supporting her.

Once he settled in again, he took up his entire half of the bed. It wasn’t just his imposing form but also his presence. Whatever space surrounded him, he owned. Which had nothing to do with macho arrogance. He exuded pure confidence, a man completely secure in his world and whatever happened to be in it. At the moment that was her. She’d been sucked into the orbit of his sphere, and gravity had definitely kicked in. She wanted nothing more than to give in to the force drawing her toward his massive appeal.

So she rolled over and faced away from him. If he didn’t want her that way, she’d get over it. Wouldn’t be the first time. What kept her hoping, at the precipice of falling for him, were those moments she swore an inexplicable magnetism existed between them. An unspoken, unquestionable pull that kept drawing them together.

Although, as she lay in his bed and he seemed unaffected, she seriously started to question the sparks of attraction that lit his gaze when she caught his eye in an unguarded moment. Maybe she should upgrade her Netflix account to platinum status so she had something to do on Saturday nights in the future that probably wouldn’t include him.

On that depressing note, she sank into the net of sleep waiting to catch her and pull her under.

Next she knew, daylight struck her eyelids. But she didn’t want to open her eyes or let go of the web of sensation surrounding her in blissful comfort.

Her cheek rested against a warm, hard surface. A firm clasp cupped her shoulder, tender and reassuring. One of her hands rested between two firm pillows radiating heat.

Suddenly she froze. Those weren’t pillows. And the hard surface against her face wasn’t the mattress.

Oh, no. Her eyes flew wide open to the view of an expansive male chest, her head cradled by his shoulder.