Page 55 of Crossed By the Stars

What would it take to let go and escape into the obsession?

Escape and me had never ended on good terms.

I grabbed the next book I touched without reading the title and took it to a soft leather couch where I stretched out the best I could with a chest that screamed. I opened the cover and lost myself to the story of a widow who’d never had a chance to sleep with the duke she married and the rakish heir who came bursting into her world after the funeral.

Somewhere after their first fevered kiss in the stables, I fell asleep. My dreams were full of Dax dressed in pantaloons and a cravat that flounced under his chin like downy feathers, me in a hooped skirt that swayed when I walked, and stables that smelled of hay and desire.

???

“Tell me, did you sleep here to punish me or yourself?” Dax’s voice lulled me from my slumber, a soft hand stroking my cheek.

I pushed it away, sitting up, and the book I was reading fell to the floor.

He picked it up, lips quirking as he took in the cover with its couple in a sexy embrace.

“Or maybe you needed inspiration?” His smile grew.

“I couldn’t sleep. As you can see, the book did the trick. It was pretty boring.”

He opened it. “His mouth plundered hers as he yanked her bodice, tearing the cloth and exposing a swollen nipp?”

I jerked the book from his hand, my body heating at the thought of Dax reading me the words. His deep, lilting voice would be like listening to a phone sex operator. Porn come to life. I’d combust from unfulfilled need if he did.

“Let’s make a deal,” I said.

His eyebrow arched, making him look much too dashing for this early in the morning when I’d had no coffee, no shower, and no ibuprofen.

When he didn’t respond, I continued, “I’ll stay at the cottage if you stay out of my space. The house is big enough that we shouldn’t have to see each other but a handful of times while we’re here. We can divide the manor down the middle like they did in that Michael Douglas movie where the couple was getting divorced and hated each other.”

He laughed but, seeing my glower, stopped.

“I’m not here to give you space,mon petit bijou.”

“You’re here because you got guilted into protecting me by Dawson, Violet, and your too-good-for-the-world conscience. Don’t turn it into something it’s not.”

“I can understand how you would think that. I deserve you thinking that way, but that’s not why I’m here.”

He turned away and headed for the door. “Breakfast is in thirty minutes, and we have plans after that, so if you intend to shower, this would be the time.”

I crossed my arms over the soft robe I’d thrown on over my nightgown the night before. “Your attempt at not being bossy needs quite a bit of work.”

His lips quirked.

“I’ve sort of given up on it.”

“Well, I don’t know what ‘plans’ you’ve made, but as I’m supposed to be healing while in hiding, I think I’ll just skip them altogether.”

“If you don’t get ready, I’ll take you like that,” he said, eyes scanning the short robe and my bare legs.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me in a whole lot less. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me naked in the shower the night before last, but somehow, the look made me feel like I was completely exposed to him all over again.

I glared at him, but it did nothing but make his smile grow.

“I’m serious. Go get ready, or I’ll put you in the golf cart in your robe.”

I snorted. “I’m not golfing. I hate golf.”

It reminded me too much of my father, of the time in my life when I’d taken lessons, hoping it would catch his interest as much as my playing with his swords used to do.