I may never shower again.

That’s what the sixteen-year-old me would have said if she’d experienced the feel of Rhett Hennessy’s naked chest against her skin. Spontaneous human combustion was real, and I was pretty sure I just came close to experiencing it.

Good. Lord.

I didn’t know what just happened in that gym, but it wasn’t something I could have ever predicted. In fact, I would have estimated the probability at less than one percent.

I touched my mouth, amazed at how my lips still tingled from where his teeth had scraped along them. Did I leave a mark when I nipped him? Part of me hoped so, and the other part was so embarrassed, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. My ass burned where his hand had kneaded it, and let’s not even talk about the state of my panties or the rest of me.

With a calming breath, I made my way into the kitchen, hoping just a little that Rhett got lost trying to find it. I needed about a hundred yards of space between us right now if I were going to get my head straight again.

Do I really want to get my head on straight?

Yes. Yes, I did. This was counterproductive. I’d spent years getting over him, and while that had obviously only been semi-successful, I refused to spend any more time thinking about getting under him.

Sweet Lord, it had been better than I could have imagined. I’d wondered whether my mind had inflated the size of that bulge in his pants. Probably more than I should ever admit. The conclusion? My estimates had been way off. Because now that I’d had the real deal pressed against me, I knew certain things were bigger than they appeared.

Good thing I didn’t grind myself against him like a cat in heat, and maintained some of the dignity I’ve developed over the years. Even I could feel my eyebrow twitching at that lie.

Not thinking about this anymore. Also a lie.

I made it to the kitchen intending to make a protein shake, but one was already waiting on the counter and Carver was nowhere in sight. He’s efficient. I wondered what I was paying for his services, and decided a hefty tip was in order.

Turning toward the wall of windows that looked out over the pool, grotto, and lake, I chugged my shake and waited to hear footsteps signaling Rhett’s entrance to the kitchen. He would follow me, right?

Maybe not. Maybe his reaction to rubbing up against a sweaty woman’s body would be to go shower like a normal human being. Where maybe he’d jack off.

Oh my God, I am not picturing him stroking that big, hard, probably veiny and perfect penis in the shower until he comes all over the travertine wall and the spray washes it down.

My pulse skipped up about twenty beats per minute at the visual, and my nipples peaked against my top.

Then I heard footsteps. I gulped down a huge mouthful of shake and tried to pretend I wasn’t just thinking about Rhett naked in the shower. I spun around in mid-swallow and almost choked.

A shudder worked through my entire body. In the gym, I hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the fact that he was shirtless and his body looked nothing like the lanky youth who’d washed his car in his parents’ driveway while I perved from my bedroom window.

His thickly muscled and well-defined chest was sprinkled with a light smattering of hair that did nothing but accentuate how freaking manly he was. His abs had enough ridges to scrub laundry. And then those arms. Sweet Lord, they were my biggest weakness. Thick and strong, they looked capable of lifting the weight of the world from my shoulders and handling anything I threw at him.

From Rhett’s hooded expression, he looked like he was having impure thoughts of his own. Oh hell. Is he looking at me thinking things like I am while looking at him? I couldn’t process the idea, so I did what I was best at—rambled awkwardly.

“You want breakfast? I’m going to make eggs. Well, eggs and egg whites. Because it’s healthier to get your extra protein from the whites and not have the yolks. But don’t worry about shells. I don’t crack and separate my own because I’m usually in a hurry, so I get them in handy cartons.”

Stop, Ari. For the love of God, stop.

“But then again you probably know all about that because you look like you probably drink a carton for breakfast. Maybe lunch. Brunch? Or do you just eat meat?” I held out my cup. “Protein shake?”

Rhett looked around the kitchen. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, and his chest shook like his laughter was internal. “You don’t have to cook for me, Red. I’m capable,” he said as he peered around me.

“What are you looking for?”

“No personal chef?”

I appreciated his change of subject more than he’d ever know. I smiled like a fully functioning, non-rambling human being. “I don’t travel with one. It seems pretentious.”

Apparently, that was the right answer. Rhett threw back his head and laughed. “Have you seen your digs? I think you’re a little beyond worrying about what’s pretentious.”

I took a deep breath, feeling like we were back on level ground. I took a drink of my shake with another well-practiced eye roll before turning to the fridge. “It’s not like my assistants consult me with details when they lease places for me. My requirements are outlined in the file, and they find something appropriate within those parameters.”

“Exactly what are those requirements and parameters? A mansion big enough to fit an entire neighborhood, a pool bigger than at a resort, a view to die for, and enough bedrooms to host an NBA team?” His joking tone kept the question light.

I gave him my back as I opened the fridge. “At least twenty minutes from downtown, preferably thirty. Walled and gated. Fully monitored security system. There are a few other key requirements, but those are the basics. I set the budget, and Erik and Esme get creative trying to outdo each other on how ridiculous a place they can find.”

I managed not to blush as I reached inside to grab the egg whites and a carton of eggs. Once the ingredients were laid out on the counter, I ducked down to reach for a bowl. “You should’ve seen this pink palace they leased for me in Dubai. It was absolute insanity. Some sheik’s party pad. I stayed two nights, then got the heck out of there to go home.”

When I set the bowl on the counter, I’d finally calmed down enough to make eye contact. Rhett stared at me like a complete stranger had stolen into the kitchen to replace the girl he’d known his whole life. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I wasn’t going to dissect it right now.

“So,” I said as I glanced down at the bowl. “You good with eggs, heavy on the whites?”

“You really don’t have to cook for me. I’ve been doing it myself for a long time.”

I shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice change for you.” With a jerk of my chin toward the bar stools surrounding the massive kitchen island, I told him, “Sit. I’ll make sure you get fed.”

I kept up the chatter as I cooked, but it was mostly one-sided. Rhett answered when required but for the most part, he just watched me. I gave myself permission to ramble at will because it was the only way I could handle his stare.

You technically have a boyfriend, the voice in my head reminded me. So you should take care of that situation before you roll around on the floor with another guy again.

Wait, was I planning to roll around on the floor with Rhett again? Dumb question. Obviously.

Also, Carlos wasn’t really my “boyfriend” in the traditional sense. He was a guy I dated on occasion, so it wasn’t like he was a true barrier. One phone call and he would be gone. But . . . did I need a barrier? Every time I let myself get my hopes up about Rhett, it ended the same way—me leaving New Orleans with my head held high, telling myself I didn’t care that he’d never want me. I’d go back to being Heath’s little sister and totally invisible.

From the feel of Rhett’s stare on me as I cooked, I most definitely wasn’t invisible right now. What is happening here? Has the universe gone crazy?

By the time I plated the eggs, his gaze had switched from my every move to the wall of glass facing the lake.

Had he blocked out what had happened between us this morning? Maybe he was telling himself it was never to be repeated.

I snipped off a couple of sprigs of fresh dill from the artistic vertical herb garden at the end of the kitchen counter, then dropped them on the eggs before sliding the plates across the island.

Rhett finally turned around at the sound of a fork dropping next to the plate. Instead of commenting on the breakfast I’d prepared, his question threw me completely off-balance again.

“How long are you staying?”