CHAPTER NINE
“Uh, yes.” She croaked, barely able to make a sound. “I need to change.” Was he suggesting that they climb into bed together?
Her body responded very enthusiastically to that idea—her fingers itched to peel his wet clothes off his strong body—but her mind screamed at her to be sensible.
“Me too.” His response came after her thoughts had already run away from her, and she struggled to think what he’d agreed with.
“Oh.” So he did just want to change. Fine. “Let’s go.” She peeled herself further away from him, straightened her T-shirt—he’d fisted his hands into it—and headed for the stairs.
Her insides pulsed with arousal, calling to her.
She tried to settle herself. It wasn’t as if she’d gone years without sex. Or even months.
Her body didn’t care. Her nipples tingled against her wet bra, and her pants chafed wetly against her trembling legs.
Sandro must be used to women melting under his gaze and turning into quivering Jell-O of need at his touch. Gorgeous and royal? It was a deadly combination.
Not that she was usually susceptible to such superficial qualities in a man.
She was emotional, though, with this whole Christmas-in-hiding thing. Her recent breakup had crushed her confidence and left her worried—would she now be alone forever? Would all her followers decide she was a fraud and desert her?—so maybe she was more vulnerable than usual to the attentions of a practiced player.
“Good lord.” The gruff voice behind her made her turn as she walked up the stairs. Sandro’s eyes rested on her behind. She blinked. That was crude. She didn’t like that. It wasn’t gentlemanly.
Still, her body responded with a flush of heat.
How did he do this to her?
She could tell he was attracted to her. Very attracted. She could see it in his hot, steady gaze and feel it in his touch.
But he probably felt the same way about half the women he met.
Did she want to be another notch in his bedpost?
Yes, some traitorous part of her body answered swiftly.
No! She tried to reason. Besides, she’d gone off her contraception so she couldn’t, even if she wanted to.
Which she didn’t. How would she feel in the morning if she slept with a man she’d just met?
She headed into her bedroom. Sandro followed. “Uh, what are you doing in here?”
“I’m here to help you undress.” Mischief danced in his eyes.
“I can handle that all by myself, thanks.”
“Wet clothes can be quite difficult to remove.” His dark gaze drifted to her breasts, where her damp T-shirt clung to the outline of her bra. “I’m sure I’ll need some help myself.”
Her heart beat faster. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“We’re both single, we’re stuck here, there’s an attraction between us strong enough to light something on fire.” A smile tugged at one side of his mouth.
“But…” This isn’t going anywhere. It would just be a fling. She prided herself on not jumping into pointless dalliances. On saving herself for Mr. Right.
Except that he’d turned out to be Mr. Wrong.
The sound of her own voice surprised her. “You do make some good points.”
He took her in his arms. “I’m smarter than people give me credit for.”
She giggled as her chest crushed against his. “I might be less smart than people give me credit for. If my readers knew what I was doing right now…” The thought made her stiffen. “I can count on you to be discreet?”
“Of course.”
Should she? Temptation clawed at her. Then she heard it again. “The dog. Listen.”
This time it was unmistakable. A bark, followed by a long howl of desperation.
“Poor thing. It might be chained outside.”
Serena pulled from their embrace and hurried to the window. “I can see the house from here.” From the look of its rusting metal roof, it was an older house, wood and rather ramshackle, with a front porch half hidden by a clump of trees. “There it is. It’s chained to a porch column. Oh, my. It’s soaked.” Even from up on the second floor, she could see black and white fur plastered to its skin. “Let’s bring it inside.”
“Sure.” If Sandro was annoyed by the interruption to their almost tryst, he didn’t betray it. He was out the door and down the stairs before she could gather her thoughts.
“What if the owner is home?” she wondered aloud as they reached the foyer. “I hope we don’t get shot.”
Sandro chuckled. “We’ll call out first.”
They headed out into the blasts of wind and rain. “Ugh, this is nasty.” Rain slapped her in the face, and the gusts were distinctly colder than before. “Oh, no, look at the road.”
Its bumpy unpaved surface was slick with water—moving water.
“My God, it’s a river.”
The water was already creeping up onto the lawn. “Quick, let’s get the dog.”