Page 14 of Westin
His thumbs moved over her collarbone as if they had a mind of their own, sliding along the smooth skin with a touch that sent a spark of electricity through his arms. He could almost feel the weight of her breasts against his palms, could almost feel the desire in her hardened nipples, could almost taste the warmth of her mouth. He ached to feel her body against his, the knowledge that all he’d have to do was draw her forward an inch or so making him almost lightheaded.
But he wasn’t this kind of guy.
He pulled away, putting distance between them by crossing to the other side of the room, leaning his back against the door. She turned toward him, something like disappointment burning in her amber eyes.
“Okay,” she said softly, almost as if she was trying to wrap her mind around the idea that a man might not want her. “Didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” She cocked her head slightly. “A boyfriend?”
Westin grunted. “I don’t want to take advantage of you—therefore I must be gay?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Ms. Adams?”
“I’m just curious what your deal is. I practically throw myself at you, and you turn me down. That’s not something I’m really used to.”
“You throw yourself at men a lot?”
“No.”
She picked the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around herself, dropping the towel at her feet once she was well covered. There wouldn’t be any more peeks at that lovely form today. Westin felt a rush of disappointment despite himself, a disappointment that made him ache in places where it wasn’t always pleasant to ache, especially like that. They had a term for what he was feeling: blue balls. He completely understood it in that moment.
“Look,” she said with a heavy sigh as she dropped herself on the edge of the bed. “I just… It’s been a long few weeks, and I was hoping to burn off a little tension. That’s all. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I think you’re hot, okay? If you do have a girlfriend, or a wife, I apologize. You can tell her that you stood up well to temptation.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
Westin stood a little straighter, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t have a woman. I just don’t do things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Sleep with some woman I don’t know without benefit of protection.”
Her eyebrows rose as she took a good look at him. “You mean you turned me down because you don’t have a condom on you?” He rolled his head, not really admitting she was right, but not denying her assessment of the situation, either. She laughed a little. “Would you have done it if I produced a box of condoms before I dropped the towel?”
Again, he refused to answer, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes moved over her, hesitating on her bare shoulders for a second before touching her eyes. She smiled, sliding back up against the headboard before she tugged the blanket a little tighter around her legs, then smoothing her palms over the soft material.
“Just my luck I run into the only hot cowboy with a moral conscience.”
“I’m sure Landry or Bowie might be a little more open to your proposition.”
“No, thanks. They’re not really my type.”
“Am I?” Westin asked, recalling the fancy suit her ex had been wearing when he attacked her. The two men couldn’t have been more dissimilar, really. Fang had been thin and wiry, the kind of guy who would be good in a street fight but probably couldn’t handle a day’s work on a cattle ranch. His kind of muscles came more from a gym, not from real work. In fact, a lot about that guy struck Westin as a city boy, the kind who was more likely to spend time in jail than on a horse.
But the way Lea looked him over made those thoughts evaporate from his mind. There was such heat in that look that he almost reconsidered his position. He even took a step forward, intent on joining her on that bed. Maybe just a little touch, a few kisses… But he knew it wouldn’t end at that. There was an eroticism about her that had wormed its way under his skin the moment she came out of the bathroom in nothing but that towel. And her persistence… even a cold shower couldn’t fix the ache that was burning through him. He wasn’t sure anything could but her, lying with her.
“How long have you worked here?” she suddenly asked, reaching up to play with the bun in her hair again. “Do you live on the ranch?”
Westin cleared his throat, having trouble changing tracks. “How long…?”