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yourself.”
    She could only nod as he turned and walked away. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
    She pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a drink, but when the shower water turned on, she paused and shook. What would he look like stepping out of those jeans? The dark and stained denim sliding off his waist, exposing his rounded ass. The jeans would drop lower to his muscled thighs. She’d never seen them before, but they had to be muscled since the rest of him was nothing but cut and defined.
    She opened her drink and poured half of it down her throat to cool her steaming insides. Gracious, she didn’t know where to start tonight, what his plans were. Why he stopped when she’d been on her porch when he could have just driven on by.
    A small part of her had been cooking for him over and over because she didn’t know what else to do. The meals were easy, no contact. Now she was supposed to jump into this. Yeah. Right into the frying pan.
    She faced his bedroom door, which had been left parted, and she inched closer and peeked through to see, the wall. She bit her lip and bumped the door open with her toe.
    Oops. Oh, well, would you look at that. Must have been a little wind from an opened window somewhere. She looked in. Like the other day, his bed was neatly made. There were no clothes on the floor. No TV in his bedroom. His nightstand was bare aside from a clock and a lamp and all his pocket contents. Keys, phone, change and a knife. Pretty standard stuff.
    She just couldn’t help herself and looked a little further into the room. To the cracked bathroom door. And through that crack she was able to see steam and another wall, damn trailer design. She stepped in, then thought better of it and left. But she wanted to.
    Good Lord, she wanted to slip across the carpet, peek inside the bathroom and see what he looked like behind the frosted glass of the shower door. How the steam would lick around his body. How the water would drip from all those masculine, hard edges.
    The shower water cut off and her stomach jumped in her throat. She backed away from his bedroom, grabbed her drink and sank on the couch like she’d been there all along. On his couch that smelled of clean soap and crisp air. Even though she’d never been near Lane when he wasn’t covered in grime, she knew this was his scent. She ran her hand across the cool leather which had so often cupped his body when he sat in front of the TV watching…sports, maybe?
    His footsteps sounded near. A creak as a door opened, and she looked up, her breath was robbed from her chest. Lane stood there in jeans and nothing else. His chest was damp, hair still wet. The black script tattoo across his side glistened.

 
    Chapter Five
    Lane stopped in the doorway at seeing Gretchen on his couch. She looked down and away from him, smoothing the leather with her thumb. Her back was against the cushions, her legs too short to reach the ground so bare feet bobbed and bounced. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing her there, even when he knew he shouldn’t. But knowing and doing were two different things. He shifted, bumped into the door and she glanced up at the squeak. Her eyes walked him from head to toe. And not just looking but studying. It was likely she didn’t even know her mouth had opened and she was biting her lower lip. Not hard, just a little. Exactly the way a woman should bite a man on the shoulder. Putting a shirt on probably would have been a good idea.
    The tension and staring and the licking of her lower lip continued. The cold shower had just calmed his cock down, but it was for nothing as he was hardening again. Fast. Her fingers tightened on the couch arm and he couldn’t take it anymore. If she continued staring and eating him with her eyes, he’d be over her in seconds, no shirt, no pants either. And that would be a really stupid thing to do. So he rubbed over his head and stepped toward the oven and pretended there wasn’t a sex kitten within arm’s