One Night with Morelli(61)

                This was not going as she had anticipated.

                Midway through telling herself she’d have to up her game, she heard the shower start up in the adjoining bathroom. A glazed expression slid into her eyes before she let them close, but that made it worse. Images crowded into her head of a steam-filled room, water sliding off slick brown skin, droplets gleaming on the sprinkling of chest hair that became a thin directional arrow down his flat belly.

                The memory of the open invitation he had issued echoed in her head, feeding the ache of need that throbbed through her. She lifted a despairing hand to her head where increasingly vivid carnal images were playing on a loop and wondered how it was possible to be so furious with someone, know perfectly well they were using you, and yet still want them so badly… Her eyes opened and her hand fell limply away.

                Was she finally becoming the person she had never forgiven her mother for being? The thought worked better than a cold shower and coincided with a sudden silence as the water in the bathroom went off and a switch in her head went back on.

                She went pale at the thought of how close she’d come to running towards temptation and opening that door. Where Draco was concerned she appeared to have no shame or self-respect. Genes will out, she warned herself, and, shaking her head, she surged to her feet. Recognising a weakness in yourself meant you could do something about it—there was always a choice.

                Her mother had had a choice and she’d made the wrong one—twice. Eve had no intention of repeating Sarah’s mistakes.

                She weighed her options, and it didn’t take long to make her decision. She’d pass on the satisfaction of having the last word and put a safe distance between herself and Draco.

                Run away. She released a slow measured breath. It was a plan—definitely a plan.

                But before Eve could put this plan into action or even place one foot in front of the other Draco, whistling softly under his breath, strolled into the room barefoot and her urgent need to escape immediately became less urgent—a lot less urgent.

                His dark hair had been slicked back messily with his hands and was still dripping water, leaving dark patches on the white shirt he wore.

                Emotions raw and her senses heightened to a painful degree, Eve knew with total certainty that that image, this vignette, had imprinted itself indelibly in her memory. For as long as she lived she would remember the way he looked and the way she felt.

                ‘Did you miss me?’ he asked, tucking the dangling tails of his shirt into the waist of dark trousers as he watched the expressions flicker across her face. When her mask was down she had the most expressive features he had ever encountered.

                She tipped her chin. Sometimes the truth, however unpalatable, was the best defence. ‘With every fibre of my being.’

                The sexy husk in her voice sent a visceral shudder through his body, and his nerve endings tingled the way they had when her hair had brushed his bare skin.

                ‘Right, now I’m all yours.’ His grin flashed as he held his arms wide in invitation and drawled, ‘Double entendre totally intended, in case you were wondering.’

                ‘I wasn’t.’ Suddenly Eve was fed up with the games and the smart talk. She was glad now she hadn’t made good her getaway; she would have always regretted not telling him what she thought of him.

                Holding his eyes, she planted her hands on her hips, unwittingly drawing his attention to the gentle curves, and looked him up and down. See how you like it, she thought.

                Problem was, he did seem to like it! There was a glimmer of admiration in his slow appreciative smile as he purred, ‘Like what you’re seeing, cara?’