Page 37

My head was on a swivel in the backseat, looking for any cars that might be following me as I gave the driver the wrong directions twice in an attempt to shake a tail even if I did have one.
In the end, though, there was no one following us when we finally pulled onto Elian’s street, and it felt good to climb out casually instead of making a mad dash for the door, trying to get inside a safe building and away from any windows someone might shoot me through.
Without a key, though, I did feel a little exposed as I hit the buzzer for Elian’s condo, and had to wait for him to let me up.
I was barely a step off of the elevator on his floor when the tangy scent of tomatoes wafted over to me, making me take a deep, greedy breath.
I don’t know about other women, but the idea of a man cooking for me was almost ridiculously sexy.
Almost as sexy as that little run-in in the hallway that morning that I kept trying to remind myself to stop thinking about.
And failed.
Over and over and over.
I was sitting at my desk with my thighs pressed together for most of the day because of the way my body was reacting just to the memory of that little incident.
It had been hot enough just to be close to a man as gorgeous as Elian without his shirt on. But to actually be up against him without a stitch of clothing on? That was another level.
I’d been careless when I went to take my shower, so used to my usual routine and apartment, where I could walk out of my bathroom and right into my bedroom, that I’d just simply forgotten to bring my change of clothes into the bathroom with me.
Hence the mad dash across the hallway.
Where I plowed right into a half-naked Elian.
And like some bad movie, the towel untucked and fell to my feet, leaving me completely naked against his bare chest and stomach.
The brush of his skin against my breast had desire pinging off every nerve ending, igniting a fire that burned through me slowly until it overtook me completely. I mean, I was just barely strong enough to not turn and brush myself against him again.
I’m not proud to admit that when he closed his eyes to protect the privacy I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, I took a good, long look at him.
It’s not even my fault.
The man had the kind of body that demanded you step back and really drink him in.
Wide shoulders, a firm chest, corded biceps, and a six-pack that tapered into that sexy V that disappeared into the low-slung pajama pants.
And, well, then there was the proof of his own desire pressing against that thin material, leaving no question that he was as impacted by the moment as I was.
I kind of wish my shoulder had brushed him a little more.
God, what the heck was wrong with me?
I don’t ever remember being so consumed with the idea of a man before. Maybe because the focus in the past had been almost exclusively on my schooling and career.
Now that said career was kind of crumbling, I guess I had more mental space for thoughts of Elian to slip in.
I was actually kind of disappointed when I went into the condo to find him fully clothed.
“Bad day?” he asked when I let out a deep sigh as I kicked out of my shoes, then walked barefoot over to where Kevin was hanging out on his tree stand, lazily patting at the swinging yarn ball that hung from it.
“He didn’t even come in today,” I told Elian. “Hey, bud. Did you have a fun day in a new place?” I asked, getting a little purr out of him in response.
“I’m sorry. I know you really wanted to be done with this,” he said as I made my way back to the kitchen, where he was standing in a plain black tee and slacks. “Are you interested in wine?” he asked, waving toward a bottle of red he had breathing on the island.
“Only if you won’t judge me for putting ice cubes in it,” I said.
I knew alcohol could be a migraine trigger, but I could really use something to release some of the tension that had crept into my neck and shoulders. And, well, other places as well.