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her.
    Her reflection in the small mirror over the sink stunned her. She looked … wounded .
    “Yikes, girl, get that armor back into place,” she whispered to herself. Now was not the time to all of a sudden start caring what men thought about her again. She’d grown beyond that ages ago. Sometime around the summer her first boyfriend had taken her virginity in a five-minute session in the back of his car and then callously tossed her aside. Or maybe the seventh time a man had used her for her body and left without a word.
    She put the lid to the toilet down and sank to its surface. She rested her face in her hands and tried to regulate her breathing. Her eyes stung as though tears were pricking the back of her eyelids. But that couldn’t possibly be accurate. She was just suffering from a flood of hormones. Her damn body wanted that man in the next room. He’d rejected that, and now her body was traitorously lettings its feelings show.
    It was just biology.
    Minutes passed as she tried to convince herself Jericho was just a job she needed to complete. When she finally got herself back under wraps, she raised her head only to discover that sunlight was no longer shining through the tiny window in the corner.
    Dahlia groaned. She’d been in here for a long time. Possibly an hour. After erupting at Jericho that they were going to “take care of themselves.”
    Well, serves him right. I hope he’s imagining me having a marathon of multiple orgasms!
    She splashed some water on her face, took a steeling breath, and opened the bathroom door. The lights in the room were off, but she could make out Jericho’s dim form where he lay on his side on the bed. His back was to her. His broad, beautiful back. Dahlia’s mouth went dry, and flares of small pain from the Impulse flared in the pit of her stomach. She bit back a groan on the off chance that he was faking sleep. No need for him to know she was already desperate for him.
    She crossed the room and flopped on her bed and crossed her forearms over her eyes. Go to sleep, go to sleep, she coached herself. The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner it would be tomorrow, and the closer she would be to her goal.
    After a few minutes, she cursed softly. Sleep was not going to happen. Well, may as well plan for California. She turned on her side and stared at Jericho’s back while she thought out her next steps.

Chapter Six
    Emily’s pure laughter rang through the room, and just like it did every time his woman laughed, Jericho’s heart skipped a beat.
    Her head fell back, exposing her long, graceful neck, and Jericho’s mouth went dry. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
    She heard him, and her laughter faded away. She met his eyes with a warm smile, and she got up from her seat to walk slowly around the dinner table. When she reached his chair, she settled herself into his lap and placed her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered just before placing her lips over his.
    Jericho’s eyelids closed, and he gathered Emily closer to his chest as he deepened the kiss. He loved this woman so much. She was everything he’d ever hoped he would have and so much more than he deserved.
    He pulled back from the kiss to tell her this, but she was no longer Emily.
    Dahlia sat in his lap. Her face was so close to his that he could see the flecks of green in her dark brown eyes. Her breath fanned over his face, smelling of cinnamon.
    “Hmmmm,” she hummed from between closed lips. Her tongue slipped out to brush along her bottom lip, and he zeroed in on it like a hawk. “You taste so good,” she murmured in her luscious, husky voice. “Kiss me again.”
    And, God help him, he did. His mouth crashed down on hers before he could stop himself, and he discovered that not only did she smell of cinnamon, she tasted of it, too. He moaned into her mouth as she sucked on his tongue, and something inside of him cracked.
    He jerked Dahlia closer. She immediately shifted her legs