Page 68 of Missing Justice

“Matt, I can put myself to bed.”

“I know, but…”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I like helping you get ready for bed.”

“Oh, my God,” she said, her eyes hot on his. “I’m totally doing you.”

“Which is why I will sleep on the couch.”

She whipped the T-shirt from his hand and spun away. “We’ll see about that.”

In the five minutes it took Taylor to do her thing in the bathroom, he turned down the bed and changed into basketball shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Later, he’d ditch it all because he turned into a furnace when he slept and any clothing on his body made him seriously uncomfortable.

Across the hall, the bathroom door opened and Taylor stepped out wearing only the T-shirt that dropped to mid-thigh on her much shorter body. He dragged his eyes over her long, shapely legs.

Stay strong.

If he let her, she’d easily talk him into a quickie. Which wouldn’t be bad. Except, one quickie led to another and four hours later, they’d both be without sleep. In her current condition, he couldn’t let that happen.

She sauntered by him, swinging that amazing ass and dropping a kiss on him as she went.

“Come to bed, Mad Dog. It’ll do us both some good.”

“No.”

She made snoring noises.

Snoring noises?Really?

After fluffing the pillows, she sat on the edge of the bed. And lifted the T-shirt over her head, tossing it at him as his eyes fixed on her tits like locked-on radar. Her nipples poked out from the sudden cold and Matt couldn’t stop looking. He stood there like a horny teenager getting his first peek at Playboy, his mouth literally watering and his dick hardening. She was so damned beautiful and all he wanted, constantly, from the first time he’d put eyes on her, was to touch her. Everywhere.

Now was no exception.

“You,” he said, “don’t play fair.”

“You’ve just figured that out? Come to bed. Make me happy. I’m begging you.”

Begging. Jesus, she was a master at this. At getting what she wanted. The seduction. If it was even that. This right here? This was her putting it out there in typical aggressive Taylor style and, guess what? He didn’t want it.

Not the sex. He always wanted that. With Taylor. What he didn’t want was being her target. Being some random man on top of her, under her, behind her, ramming himself into her so she could forget her problems.

“No.”

She let out a hard huff, grabbed the covers and whipped them over her as she rolled to her side. With her back to him. “Fine. You’re right. It’s been a rough night. I need some sleep. Don’t mind me, I’m just the woman who threw myself at you.”

“What?”

She roared to a sitting position again, ran both hands through her long hair and wrapped them around her skull. “Matt!”

What the hell was this about? “You’re pissed now? Because I want to take care of you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She dipped her head, still holding on to it. “Yes. No. My head hurts. I’m exhausted and…” she dropped her hands.

This is it.He hoped. Right here. That moment when she hit rock bottom and had nowhere to run and hide.

He took two steps but she held her hands up. “Don’t come near me.”