They climbed into the bed, and Lindy sighed with pleasure. “That is sooo much better,” she said.

“I’m glad.” Silence stretched between them and he reached over to turn off the light. “I set the alarm for seven so we could compare notes before breakfast, all right?”

“Fine with me. I’m an early riser anyway.”

He smothered a semi-bitter laugh at that. He had set the phone in his pocket to vibrate at ten of seven in hopes of getting up and into the bathroom before she awoke and got an eyeful of the part of him that rose the earliest. He wasn’t complaining though. She was a trooper, and he couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime. Having her happy and well-rested was a priority.

She shifted restlessly under the blankets, hunkering down and getting comfortable. In an attempt to think about something other than the supple leg that had poked out and hooked around the comforter, he tried to run through everything he’d learned today. So Nico had said he was married before, which, unless Gavin had missed something, was a lie. Was that important somehow or did he do it to lend credibility to his business—

“These pillows are so soft.” Lindy’s purr drew him like a magnet to metal. Now her scrumptious ass was wiggling and propped up outside the comforter too. Eight inches away and he was erecting a bridge that could close the gap…

Nico. Marriage. Think.

Thank God she finally settled and stuck out a toned arm to click off the light. “’Night.”

“Good night.”

He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, finding himself strangely torn. If they couldn’t enjoy each other physically, part of him wished he were less attracted to her so they could be friends after this was all over. After only eight days of knowing her, the idea of never seeing her again didn’t sit right. It didn’t sit right at all.

Sleep was a long time coming.

…

From his vantage point in the trees, he could just make out her profile in the moonlight. The palms swayed in the balmy breeze, as if in time to the music that poured from a nearby balcony. She moved closer to the water, and closer still, until the lapping waves roiled around her ankles in a bubbling froth. She lifted her hand to the string behind her neck that held up her dress, and a moment later it fell, catching on the tips of her naked br**sts for a breathless moment before draping around her hips. She moved to strip it off, but he stepped forward, his conscience prickling.

“Don’t.” The word was torn from his throat because in reality, there was nothing he wanted more than for her to continue. He ached at the thought of her stopping.

She paused for a brief second before angling her body toward him, giving him an unobstructed view of her, naked to the waist. “Why don’t you come and help?”

The realization that she’d known he was there from the start sent a surge of adrenaline pounding through his veins. He strode through the sand, never taking his eyes off her. A dozen yards away…feet…inches, and then he was on her, crushing her torso to his, her hard ni**les prodding his chest, branding him. His blood felt thick, like molasses, flowing to his cock, now fully rigid against his belly. He speared a hand through her short hair, reveling in her gasp. “Tell me you want this,” he groaned.

“I want this,” she whispered, her eyes snapping with blue flames. “I want this so badly.”

He bent to capture her mouth, nipping at her succulent bottom lip before stroking with his tongue. She moaned and burrowed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. Gripping the cotton bunched at her waist, he drew it lower, past the curve of her hips, down her thighs until the hungry waves devoured it. He pulled away, desperate to see what he’d uncovered. Dusky ni**les stood at attention like ripe berries waiting for his mouth. He fought the urge to take one between his teeth, instead letting his gaze travel lower, over the flat expanse of stomach, the navel that begged for his tongue. Inexorably down, to the place where her thighs met.

He lifted his head and caught her gaze, letting her see how she tore him apart, letting her witness the depth of his need. With a curse, he swooped down, capturing one nipple, laving it with his tongue. She arched her back on a muffled groan, her nails scoring his shoulders in a mindless caress.

“Owen, please.”

The scent of pears assaulted him, and he breathed in deeply. She was so present, so real. The fantasies plaguing him since he first met her had never been so all-consuming and he welcomed this new torture as much as he cursed it. She surrounded him in every way, her legs winding around his thigh, her restless hips pulsing against his distended length. Her hand slipped between them, cupping him through his pants, fingers wrapping around him, squeezing in a sublime caress.

“Fuck, Lindy, don’t stop.” His whole body stiffened at her touch, the desire to come a grinding need. He wouldn’t go without her, not even in his dreams. He reached down to cup her. Liquid fire. So damn hot. Dimly, he realized there was a thin, cloth barrier between them. Hadn’t she been naked?

She grasped his hand and shoved it inside her panties with an impatient cry and his thoughts blew away on the ocean breeze. It was then, with her wet, clutching heat drenching his fingers that his eyes flew opened and his heart leapt from his chest.

Not a dream. Lindy had changed her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

She didn’t want to wake up, but something was luring her to the surface of consciousness. “I’m so close,” she said, her body hovering on the knife’s edge of a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Shh, I know. Let me get you there, love.”

She froze as the voice, brogue and all, sounded in her ear. Owen was there, in the flesh. His mouth was right next her. Then she realized where her hand was. “Oh my God!” She snatched it away as if he were hosting a nest of vipers in his lap. Hysterical laughter bubbled from her lips. Maybe not a nest of vipers, but there had been one big one, for sure.

“I-I—” She couldn’t get a single, rational word out. She rolled away from him, only to butt up against the traitorous row of pillows. A potent cocktail of desire, panic, and sheer mortification had her semi-incapacitated, and she struggled for coherent thought.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were awake.” His voice was raw with sleep and sex, his breathing still harsh. She felt a pull of need low in her stomach.

“Don’t apologize. It was my fault.” She tugged down her camisole and righted her shorts with a wince. They were damp, clinging to her unfulfilled, swollen flesh, and she wanted nothing more than to rip them off and climb aboard the O-train.

No!

That was a one-way ticket to Heartbreak. She had to stay clear-headed and get out of this situation before she did something she’d regret. With a mighty roll she was able to scale Mount Pillows and get to the other side. The distance and the barrier gave her some comfort. She took a steadying breath.

“I don’t know what happened. I thought it was a dream, and I’m sorry for that.”

He readjusted himself on the bed, and the sheets rustled, but it was a long while before he spoke. “I’m trying my hardest to think with my big head right now, but even then, it’s a no brainer. I’m dreaming about you while you’re dreaming about me. We’re healthy, mature, unattached adults. Remind me again why we’re not doing this thing. I promise you, I can make that ache go away.”

It took everything she had not to dive over that faux-wall and take him up on that offer, but the tiniest kernel of self-preservation that hadn’t melted under glow of his sheer hotness reared its little head.

“D-don’t. I didn’t mean to—” she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, “—be a tease. But I’m awake and aware now, and I can’t do this. You’re not looking for a relationship.” She hated the note of desperation that had wormed its way into her voice, but she pressed on, because she was desperate. Desperate to save herself from certain misery. If she was going to do that, she needed to get away fast. With a man like Owen, who seemed to tuck his emotions into a deep freezer, there was one surefire way to get him to let her go without a fight.

“I want a guy who’s going to stick. I want lots and lots of babies with him. And, yes, I want his face to light the hell up when I walk into a room. If you already know you could never be that guy, then stop. Stop the dancing and the dipping and the looks. Please…stop. I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to keep saying no if you don’t.”

She bolted to her feet, before the last shred of discipline deserted her, and scooped up one of the pillows. In some small, secret part of her heart, she hoped maybe he would stop her…would tell her he could be that guy. But as she crossed the room in deafening silence, that hope died.

She wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand and stepped through the door, closing it behind her with a resounding snick. There was nothing to cry about. She had saved herself a world of pain by walking away, that much she was sure of.

So why did it still hurt so freaking bad?

…

“You guys are up next,” the ski instructor said, pointing to the small, empty chairs rounding the hairpin turn at the other end of the lift.

Owen glanced down at Lindy, whose eyes had been closed for the last minute or so. “You sure you want to do this? It’s fine if you don’t. We can do cross-country.”

She gave her head a vigorous shake, and he resisted the urge to tweak her little red nose. Odd that she’d never gone skiing before because the gear suited her perfectly, and she seemed very comfortable wearing it. The slouchy cap with the fuzzy cherry-colored puffball at the end had been her pert addition to the sleek, black ski pants and jacket he’d gotten for her that morning at the shop. He had to admit, it was a nice touch. If she’d gone whizzing past him on a black diamond trail, she would’ve looked right at home. Aside from the whole staying upright aspect of the sport. From what he’d witnessed of her lessons before he’d taken a few quick jaunts down the mountain, she’d spent a lot of the time on her back. Not that he minded her prone…

It had been five days since what he’d mentally dubbed “The Incident” had occurred, and if he’d thought the fantasies were bad before, he’d thought wrong. She’d gone back to sleeping on the couch that very night, but imagining the two of them together had become a ritual. She wised up some and managed to avoid a lot of close contact, passing over ballroom dancing with him for team-building workshops designed to teach them about working together, where they decorated a dummy room of a house, trying to make it reflect both of their styles. He knew she had no more interest in that class that than he did in the poetry writing class, but it was a whole lot safer for them both. As much as it irked him, she was right about one thing. He would never be the guy who lit up over a woman and that was exactly the way he intended to keep it.

“This is the bunny slope, right?”

The flush that covered her face didn’t extend to her lips and he realized she was actually terrified. “Lindy, seriously, there’s no need to do this if you don’t want to. We can hang ’round in the pub at the bottom of the mountain and wait for the others to come down. We’re not missing out on anything important. Skiing is skiing. No one’s talking. The pub is the perfect place to be. That’s where the mouths start flapping. Let’s go. We can have some snacks and coffee while we wait.” He cupped her elbow and tried to lead her away from the lift, but she jerked her arm away.

“Nope. I’m not going.”

He recognized the mulish tilt of her chin and sighed. She was skiing, and that was that. Her determination might have been annoying if it wasn’t so damned admirable.

“All right, then. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

The chair slowed, coming up behind them. He took her hand and pulled her into position. “When it hits the back of your knees, sit,” he said.