Chapter 61

Kate woke with her nose crushed into a warm, muscled arm and her thigh draped over a denim clad one. To make matters worse, her fingers were already curled into the soft fur of at the top of an unbuttoned pair of jeans. Oh God, that wasn't good.

She tried to lift her head, but of course her braid had somehow tucked itself under his shoulder sometime in the night. No, Jon I just want to be friends, Jon. I can't have anyone in my life right now, Jon. Wait, let me twine myself around you like a Twizzler, Jon.

Perfect.

The hairs about two inches from the promised land were silky. If she just smoothed her hand up a little bit, she could see if the ones on his chest were just as crinkly as the last time she'd woken on him. Just move. Now. Move…Now! C’mon, Kate, you can do it.

She stilled as the rumbly groan buzzed under her fingers just before one blue eye cracked open.

Shoot. So much for that.

He’d been having the best dream of an auburn haired goddess with hands like silk, roaming his chest. He glanced down to see her elegant, surgeon hands hovering along the path to his open zipper. Hmm…had she done that? Perhaps she’d changed her mind. She did have her hands right where they could wake him up properly. "Morning, Katy."

His husky voice was the worst thing to hear right now. Her body was already high on available morning sex endorphins here. Not to mention that her Snoopy shorts were so old and stretched out she didn’t even have to slip out of them to get herself…Nope! Stop right there, Dr. Horny. When he lifted one calloused finger to brush a lock of hair away from her face, she forgot how to breathe.

Jon’s hips arched up. He wouldn’t ask, but he would sure as shit offer himself up if she was even remotely on the fence. Every part of him wanted to bury himself deep into her long, curving softness. "Sleep well?"

She felt him swell longer…tighter, almost as if it was bumping her to touch him. He shifted, his hips undulating slightly as if to draw her deeper. If she wanted, she could slip her hand right into the jeans, pop the last few teeth of his zipper open, and just roll on top of him.

She watched. Even part of her picked up on the clinical symptoms. His breathing changed, his eyes dilated, the quick swipe of his tongue along that ridiculously full lower lip. He wanted her. Dear God, the need was there and as naked as she wanted him right then.

Panic clawed up her throat as she scrambled back. She yelped when her braid jerked her to a stop.

“You all right?

"Umm, yeah.” She cleared her throat, scrambling back. “I slept great, actually." Even with the embarrassment radiating off her cheeks, she had to admit it was true. She slept amazingly well, as she always seemed to, when he was near her. Don’t go there. She rolled off the bed and twisted her shorts so she didn't flash the world. Hell, who was she kidding? "Do you want some coffee?"

He rolled onto his back, tucking an arm under his head, the other draped over his stomach. He watched the varying degrees of want, need and dismay flicker over her face. He wasn’t exactly sure what kept her from even giving this thing between them a try. Hell, he understood not wanting forever right now. He didn’t even know what city he was in half the time, let alone where he would be in six months. The only thing he was completely sure of, was that now wasn’t the time to press his luck. He’d end up on his ass with a door slapping him on the way out. "Coffee sounds like a plan."

"Right, well...let me go make some." She cleared her throat. "There's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet in the bathroom if you want to um, brush your teeth." She tried not to look at him. That hand not even making a move to zip himself up for God’s sake. It was like he was daring her to change her mind. To crawl on top of that lean, lovely body and see just how soft—and hard—he was, or just how much fur covered him and where. And you need your head checked. Cripes. Doing an about face before she did something stupid like slobber on him, she left the room and went for the Mr. Coffee. It was definitely a full pot kind of day..

With a disgusted huff, he rolled off the bed and zipped his jeans. She gravitated to him in sleep but minute she woke up…Bam! Walls. Every single time. Perversely, it made him want her even more. Six weeks ago, he’d have laughed in the face of everyone he knew if they’d told him he’d react this way to a woman. Yet there he was, dick in withdrawal and no end in sight.

It wasn’t like he needed to wait around. She couldn’t fault him with finding release with another woman. They were just friends after all. But damn if he could even get up the urge for another woman now that he’d tasted her. He’d tried a few times to lose himself in the mindless sea of faces that were more than willing to fill the void, but it was her bright red hair and witchy green eyes that haunted him. He was ashamed to admit, he’d even taken to going for redheads, but none of them were Kate. So, he’d toddled them off with a kiss and a smile, as cold showers became the norm.

The fact that they’d rolled around in his apartment and he couldn’t remember a thing, killed him. He remembered the softness of her breasts on his chest, the easy familiarity of her wrapped around him on the couch, but nothing else. That alone should let him off the hook. Instead, it just made him more curious.

And that much more miserable.

Taking a few minutes to brush away his morning breath and tame some of his overgrown hair, he entered the small kitchenette. "So, any plans today?" He sat down at the table, his eyes falling to the bright red shorts cupping her perfect ass.

"Errands, shopping, that sort of thing. A quick trip to the hospital for some charts I forgot to sign. Very boring," she said, putting bread in the toaster. She turned back to him, elbows on the counter as she leaned back. "I'm sure you need to get back home."

Folding his hands over his suddenly uncomfortable jeans, he swallowed. Don’t look at her tits, man. Eyes up. Eyes…up. God, even without a bra they were mouthwatering. He cleared his throat, meeting her gaze. "Not really.” He reached for the coffee she’d set out for him and took a sip. “Got a few errands in the city, but other than that I'm at loose ends for the next six weeks." The toaster popped and she turned back around, so he could torture himself with another long perusal of her slim back and rounded hips. She’d unleashed her hair so the curls twisted down her back. "Maybe we could take in a show or something?"

He winced as the scraping of her knife stopped. Smooth, Bongiovi, smooth.

She looked over her shoulder, but still didn’t meet his eyes. "Uh, a show?"

"Yeah Katy, you know, a show. New York City is in your back yard." He paused and took a sip of the coffee. "Even interns get to have fun once in awhile.”

"I'm the least fun woman you'll ever meet," she laughed awkwardly. "I'm not much for Broadway, but-" she cut herself off cursing. Dammit, just feed him and get him out of the house, Kate.

"But what? C’mon Katy, I promise it won’t kill you to spend some time with me. Your choice.” He softened his voice as she put the knife down. "All work, and no play will turn you into me,” he let his voice turn cajoling. “You don’t want that now do you?”

"I was going to go into the city on Friday, my next day off and go see this band.” Shut up, Kate. “You could, umm..." Shut up. "You could come with me," she heard herself say.