When Day Breaks(32)

But who in their right mind would turn the lights off when making love to a woman as fucking gorgeous as Eden Sinclair? Hell, he’d want to memorize every part of her body. Every dip, every curve. He’d commit to memory the way her eyes glazed with passion, the way they flared when she orgasmed. Though he might be putting too much stock in his sexual prowess. Who was to say he’d even be able to satisfy her? A woman like her could certainly afford to be picky. And yet . . . she wanted him.

His groin reacted to the fantasy he was creating in his mind, and his dick swelled in his jeans, making it damn uncomfortable. He was going to wear the imprint of his zipper if he kept this up.

So what the hell was he supposed to do? March into Eden’s bedroom, toss her on the bed and fuck her six ways to Sunday?

He shook his head in disgust. First he owed her an apology for acting like a dick. She deserved more than some crude fuck. She deserved to be seduced. And then made love to the entire night, everything devoted entirely to her pleasure. He wanted to make her forget any other man she’d ever had sex with. For her he’d pull out every single trick in his repertoire and learn a few more to boot. The idea of learning what pleased her appealed to him not only on a physical level but on an emotional one too.

“Swanny?”

It took him a minute to realize that Eden was standing in the doorway to her bedroom and that apparently she’d called his name more than once. He glanced up to see her wearing a worried frown as she stared at him, question in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Was just thinking.”

“Must not have been good thoughts,” she murmured.

He almost laughed. If she only knew . . .

“I was asking if you were hungry. I was going to order room service. It’s late and I need to call it an early night. Shooting starts early tomorrow morning and I need to look my best.”

As if she could look anything else. This was not a woman who had to work at looking good. If manufacturers could bottle her kind of beauty they’d be fucking gazillionaires. It was little wonder why she was so highly sought after. Having her back a product? Complete gold mine. She looked utterly approachable, not at all standoffish like he might expect someone of her celebrity to be. People likely flocked to her, drawn by her sweetness and genuine kindness.

“If you’ll tell me what you want, I’ll order for both of us,” he offered.

She offered him a smile that took his breath. Bottled sunshine. That was her in a nutshell. He seemed to reference the sun a lot in her presence. But being in close proximity to her was like taking a bath in sunshine on a perfect spring day.

Jesus. Now he was some kind of damn poet? It was obvious she turned him into a blithering idiot, waxing poetic when she was around him. If he weren’t careful, he’d start spouting the crap he was thinking and then she’d realize what he already knew. That he’d lost his damn mind.

“Just a fruit tray for me. I need to keep it light. Can’t afford any extra pounds.”

He snorted as he took in her flawless figure. “You look fucking perfect the way you are.”

Her cheeks bloomed with color and she smiled again and that squeezing sensation in his chest grew, threatening to close off his throat. Jesus, but this woman was death on men. The entire male species, no doubt. She likely had them all throwing themselves at her feet, humbling themselves for just a crumb from her. A smile. Or just a few words. He should know because he was precariously close to being one of those men.

“But order whatever you want,” she added quickly. “It’s not going to bother me for you to eat something more hearty. You’re a big guy. I’m sure you need the calories. Besides, I’ll live vicariously through you and at least get to smell whatever you eat.”

He frowned. “Do you ever get to eat like a normal person?”

She looked puzzled. “Of course. I mean it’s normal for me. I just have to watch what I eat. The camera is unforgiving and adds pounds, so I have to compensate for that. I do splurge from time to time, but this shoot is too important to risk even one extra pound. When it’s over I’ll celebrate with a nice big steak.”

“I’ll take you out for one,” he blurted out before realizing he was in essence asking her out on a date.

Her smile grew bigger, a dimple forming in her cheek and fascinating him. He wanted to run his tongue over it. And a whole lot of other places on her body.

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll, uh, just grab the room service menu,” he mumbled.

“Why do I make you so nervous, Swanny?” she asked softly.

Their gazes connected and he forced himself not to look away, not to avert the scarred side of his face as he was so accustomed to doing.