Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T racy’s worst and best scenarios had both come true. The good news? She’d had the time of her life making love to Adam and she couldn’t wait to do it again.
The bad news? She wanted to amend the contract. She wouldn’t do it. The risks were too great, but?—
“What kind of big trouble are we in?” Adam didn’t seem to share her concern.
“Oh, that’s right. You’re the one who believes we could get away with a week of this. But we can’t.”
He smiled. “I think you’re wrong about that. Let’s discuss it after I get back.” He left her and headed down the hall.
Sitting up quickly, she managed to catch a glimpse of his gorgeous naked self before he was out of sight. Well, his almost naked self. He still had on his socks. She’d bet when he returned they’d be gone, too.
So would hers. They didn’t fit her image anymore. She was the red-hot mama who’d just brought Adam Bridger to his knees.
Peeling off both socks, she threw them on top of her other clothes on the sofa. Then she propped a couple of pillows against it, leaned back and pulled the covers up to her waist.
The fire was still burning well, the flames licking the cedar Adam had split last fall. The image of him swinging an axe, his T-shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, created a hum of pleasure in her core.
Her lady parts had never felt so alive, so incredibly awake . She couldn’t stop a grin of satisfaction from breaking through.
But what on Earth had possessed her to act the way she had? She’d never flaunted her girls or spoken to a man in that tone of voice.
Then again, no man had ever looked at her quite the way Adam had when she’d taken off her bra — like she was the most voluptuous woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
That dazed adoration had gone right to her head. She’d wanted to drive him wild. And she’d succeeded, by golly. He’d?—
“Somebody sure looks pleased with herself.”
She glanced in the direction of his voice. “You got dressed.”
“Sort of.” He walked into the light of the fire still wearing his socks and he’d covered up the rest of him with gray sweats and a matching sweatshirt. “Figured we should eat that food you brought.”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.” But he hadn’t. Maybe he wasn’t as besotted as she’d imagined.
“I brought you these.” Crouching down, he handed her what was obviously the same outfit in white. “They’ll swim on you, but the pants have a drawstring and the cuffs on the sleeves will keep them from getting in your way.”
“Thanks, but I can just put on my?—”
“You can if you want, but…” A gleam lit his brown eyes. “Jeans are harder to get off.”
“Oh.” Her stomach fluttered. “Point taken.”
He continued to gaze at her. “Damn, lady.”
“What?”
“You pack a punch.”
“I do?”
“You do. When you look at me like that…”
Her heart shifted into triple time. “Let’s postpone dinner.”
“You don’t know how tempted I am.” He blew out a breath and stood. “We need to eat. I have a feeling once these sweats come off they’ll be staying off.”
She gulped. “Okay. What about the fire?”
“We’ll let it die down. I’ll build it up later.”
“Mm.” She’d just bet he would.
“Three-hundred degrees, right?” He walked toward the door to grab the bag she’d brought.
“Right.” She hugged the soft fleece and let his delicious words roll around in her head. He was into her, after all.
Gratifying. Worrying. They should talk about it, so maybe dinner was what they needed right now.
She stood, skipped her panties and put on his sweats, securing them with the drawstring. The intimate caress of the material on her sensitized skin promised to keep a slow burn going even though he wasn’t physically touching her.
She’d borrowed his clothes a few times over the years, mostly a jacket or sweatshirt when the weather unexpectedly changed during some outdoor adventure. He’d tell a big fat lie, claiming the cold or the rain didn’t bother him.
Even though she’d known he was lying, she’d accepted his offer. Wearing his clothes had thrilled her to death. Turned out it still did. The warmth they provided was almost like being wrapped in his arms.
The hem of the sweatshirt was snug around her hips, so at least it didn’t hang to her knees. Following his example, she put on her socks.
When she padded quietly into the kitchen, he was setting the table with the placemats and napkins she’d given him as a cabin-warming present several years ago. His sweats fit him. Oh, yes, they did, and unless she was mistaken, he’d gone commando, too.
Talk about packing a punch. The aroma of the stew warming in the oven enticed her, but it was no competition for that cowboy. She ran her tongue over her lips, reliving the dynamite kiss that had led to a mind-blowing sexual experience.
Either she’d made a small noise or he’d picked up on the waves of lust radiating from her eager body. He turned and gave her a once-over. “Sexy.”
“Oh, I’m so sure. I look like an astronaut minus the helmet.”
He grinned. “I’d say more like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s girlfriend.”
“And you find that sexy?”
“I find you sexy.” He walked toward her. “Doesn’t matter what you have on.”
She sucked in a breath. “We need to talk about that.” When he frowned, she expected an argument.
Instead he nodded. “Absolutely. I can already tell that one night will only make things worse. We need more time to get this out of our system.”
She pushed back the wave of longing that threatened to overwhelm her resolve. “We can’t risk it.”
“I can only speak for myself, but judging from the impact of our first time, I won’t be ready to end this at seven in the morning.”
“You’ll just have to be strong.”
“Will you be ready to? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No! And no, I won’t. But if we try to extend it, your whole family will become involved.”
“Not necessarily.”
“How can you say that when you all live so close together? Tonight we had some cover provided by your sisters, but we can’t keep pulling that trick.”
“We won’t. I have a plan.”