Night of the Tiger(38)

“I never said that.” Sighing, Aimee reached out and turned off the water, which was beginning to run cold. She had to turn slightly, exposing her naked backside to him, but there was no help for it. The large bath towel she’d laid out was just behind him on the edge of the vanity. She could feel his eyes caress her spine and lower as she turned back around.

He was leaning against the edge of the sink, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed. For the first time, she realized he was wearing a pair of dark brown leather pants that molded his muscular thighs. It also showcased the impressive bulge in the front to perfection.

Aimee shivered. She was personally acquainted with what was under those tight pants. It would be so easy to jump back in bed, but that wouldn’t solve anyone’s problem. “Where did you get those?” She pointed to his pants.

One corner of his mouth turned up in what might be considered a slight smile. “I’m not without some power. Although much of it was drained during my imprisonment, and it will take me some time to get back to full strength, I have some basic skills. It seems I can manifest what was mine before I was trapped.”

“Good to know.” She wished he’d manifested a shirt for himself while he was at it. His chest was distracting her. All that bare, tanned flesh and muscle were a distraction she didn’t need. It was also a sharp reminder of how she’d spent the night. She needed him to leave. Needed to be alone for a few minutes to compose herself before she faced the day and whatever came with it.

Aimee paused for a moment, then shrugged, deciding there was no point in being subtle. “If you want a T-shirt, check in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I’ve still got a few of my dad’s old ones there. It’ll be tight, but they’ll probably fit.” Her father hadn’t been a small man by any means, but Roric was huge. But at least they would cover him up some. Hopefully, that would make it easier for her to deal with him without getting sidetracked.

“Thank you.” He inclined his head.

“No problem. I’m just going to dry off and get dressed. Why don’t you wait downstairs in the kitchen?”

“I don’t mind waiting here.” His eyes warmed considerably as they grazed over her exposed limbs.

Heat suffused her, and it wasn’t all from the steam still filling the room. Her breasts ached, and her core was damp with more than just water. So much for her not being subtle. Either he was completely dense or he was ignoring her hint. She opted for door number two. The glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she wanted him to do but was choosing to ignore her unspoken request. It was time to bring out the sledgehammer.

She took a deep breath. “Leave.” She pointed to the door. “I want some privacy while I dress.” She couldn’t get any plainer than that.

His muscles bunched and coiled as he pushed away from the vanity. She was immune to such a display. Of course she was. She ignored the way her mouth went dry and her fingers gripped the towel until her knuckles turned white.

It didn’t matter to her that he was built like a tank without being muscle-bound. His long limbs were fluid and full of grace as he moved, reminding her that the tiger lived just below the surface of the man, all power and supple strength. She stilled when he moved closer, feeling very much like cornered prey. The wrong move could make him pounce.

Would that be so bad?

Shut up, she told that voice in the back of her head. She wasn’t a sex fiend. She had much bigger worries to contend with than whether or not she should fall back into bed with a man who looked like a sex god. Like, what the hell was going to happen to her? Bad choice of words. Very bad.

Roric prowled closer, looking even larger in such a small space. Leaning down, he captured her chin in his hand and brushed his lips over her. “Don’t be long.”

When he turned away, she got a perfect view of his first-class butt, cupped lovingly by the soft, leather material. She released a long sigh, wishing her hands could replace his pants. When she realized what she was doing, she shook herself. She slammed the door closed, dropped the soggy towel into the tub and grabbed her big, fluffy bath towel.

“Don’t be stupid,” she admonished herself. “He doesn’t care about you. He woke up in the same bed with you and took advantage of the situation the same as you did.” That’s all it was, two adults taking pleasure from one another.

Why that thought made her sad, she had no idea. It wasn’t as though she’d invested a lot of time in a relationship with him. Aimee snorted. Their so-called relationship could be measured in hours, not days or weeks.