Jamie.

What did he want from this woman?

Sex.

Was that all?

He frowned. No. Not even close.

His body was craving sex. That was obvious. He simply had to be in her presence and he felt his hormones hit overdrive. But he wanted more than that. Michael studied the ceiling. He wanted that part that came after, too. The part where you wake up the next morning and roll over to pull the woman closer to you, knowing neither of you had to leave. The part that sits on the back deck and drinks coffee together, sharing the Sunday newspaper, and discussing where to vacation next.

He could still hear that overpowering voice that’d spoke in his head the first day he’d seen her. The one that’d told him to hang on to this woman. End statement.

Now…how did he let her know? Without her walking out on him or laughing in his face?

Aw, fuck. He was in deep.

And she had the shovel.

He couldn’t blow it tonight. He patted his pocket, checking for his cell phone, feeling an urge to call Lacey and get her advice.

How would it look to Jamie if she came out and he was on the phone with another woman? Not cool.

Think, Michael. WWLD? What would Lacey do?

Lacey would talk. She’d say exactly what was on her mind to Jamie.

He could do that. Just filter out the sex stuff.

He wanted to know what Jamie was thinking. They’d had several moments where he felt like she’d let her guard down and spoken to him like she’d known him forever. And several moments where the hormones were off the charts.

Lacey would tell him to simply ask Jamie how she felt.

No problem. He sat up, feeling clearer in the head, ready to talk.

The bathroom doorknob turned.

Michael took a deep breath.

Why hadn’t Chuck left a bottle of vodka?

It’s now or never.

She’d had a second chance dumped in her lap when Chuck said he needed to check the attic room. Only a stupid girl would ignore it. Jamie held her breath as she reached for the bathroom doorknob. She’d spent the last five minutes arguing with herself—and finishing that second glass of wine—as she changed into the black bra and matching thong that she’d coincidentally packed.

Some coincidence. She’d known exactly why she’d thrown that black duo in her bag. Because she might end up in a hotel room with Mr. Hottie. And here she was.

The only thing holding her back was herself. She was certain he wouldn’t turn her down. She’d caught him staring at various parts of her body multiple times, and he’d been putting out that protective vibe since her house was trashed. She could almost smell the pheromones.

Today had been one of the most stressful days of her life. There was someone back in Portland, looking for Chris, desperate enough to attack her in her home. But putting nearly an entire state between them and the attacker felt good, and being close to Michael made her feel safe. Tomorrow he’d help her find her brother, but tonight…

He’d held her hand.

That’s what’d touched her the most and made her melt inside. When he’d taken her hand at dinner with the sheriff as they talked about her nephew, she’d wanted to curl up on his lap and bury her head in his neck.

But tonight she wasn’t seeking comfort. She wanted a taste of the wild ride that the man promised. It leaked out of every pore of his body. Pure testosterone pumped up with smooth male confidence.

What was the worst that could happen? He fucked her and never called? Yes, that would suck, but she’d live. And probably have a memorable night.

Damn it, she wanted that memorable night.

She wanted it bad. Bad enough to make her step outside her comfort zone. She wanted to be a different woman tonight. Not Principal Jacobs. Not perfectly neat and organized Jamie who didn’t take a step without a plan.

She looked in the mirror and ran her hands over flat abs. Boobs looked good. A thong made almost every ass look good. She could feel the wine warming her limbs, giving her the courage she needed. She wanted Michael Brody and was about to let him know it. She lifted her chin and opened the door.

He stared.

A goddess had emerged from the bathroom and stood in front of him in black lace. Her chin lifted, and she held his gaze, inviting and fearless.

He had no voice. He reached out to touch one thigh and pulled back. He needed to simply look some more, mentally soak in the sight. Jamie was all smooth skin and long limbs, with legs that didn’t end. She brushed her hair over one shoulder and his heart nearly stopped.

“Sweet mother of pearl. You are smoking hot.”

Her laugh warmed his heart.

“What are you doing?” he choked out. She looked ready to go several rounds in bed with him. And he’d just talked himself into having a conversation with her.

His brain shifted mental gears. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Don’t say anything. I don’t want you talking yourself out of this.”

Jamie’s lips turned up. “You’re learning me well. Because if I overthink this, I’ll be back in that bathroom in a heartbeat, and I’ll put all my clothes back on.” A touch of nervousness appeared in her gaze.

And if he made a wrong move, she’d run.

“God, woman. I want you so much at this moment, I think I’m about to explode.”

The nervous light in her eyes evaporated.

“While you were in the bathroom, I convinced myself to spend our evening talking about our feelings.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“I know. Stupid, huh?” This time he did touch her thigh. Silky. Just like he’d known it’d feel.