"You said ’come in.’" He pointed out.
"No, I said ’coming.’"
"You see how I could have heard it wrong, right?"
Naomi narrowed her eyes. "Or you wanted to hear it wrong."
Dorian’s mouth twitched. "Considering the view from when I came in, I’m kind of glad. Lucky mistake. It usually passes in court." He started to shift backward.
Naomi clutched him harder. "Don’t you fucking move!"
Dorian immediately stopped. "I hear you."
Naomi glared up at him. The problem was that glaring was difficult while completely naked and holding onto a man who had already seen everything there was to see.
Still, Vegas felt different. Vegas had absolutely no expectation that she would ever see him again. This was sober.
Naomi became painfully aware of the fact that Dorian’s chest was against hers.
"Naomi..."
"What?"
"I’m trying very hard to be respectful here."
"That would be a first."
"You’re not the only one with a problem right now. My problem," he continued, "is growing exponentially by the second."
"Oh my God!" She looked down at the towel.
It was lying near their feet.
So close.
And yet somehow completely inaccessible.
"How about I close my eyes, reach down, grab your towel and wrap it around you?"
Naomi frowned. "But then you will touch me."
"Naomi." He leaned slightly closer. "There isn’t one part of your skin I do not remember touching. Or kissing. Or licking."
Heat crawled slowly up her neck. He knew exactly what he was doing now. The amusement was back in his eyes.
"Or sucking..."
Naomi stopped breathing properly. Dorian had been trying to tease her. A little reminder that her sudden modesty made absolutely no sense after Vegas.
Unfortunately, the memories landed on him too. His teasing stopped feeling quite so funny. it was not helping his situation either.
"Shut up... please!" Naomi begged.
Dorian’s mouth twitched. "Why? Are you uncomfortable?"
"Yes!" she snapped.
"Then you know how I feel."
she considered strangling him. The only problem was that strangling him would require letting go, and letting go was currently impossible because her towel was lying innocently on the floor. "Just close your eyes, and I’ll reach down and grab the towel."
Dorian lifted a brow. "How are you sure I won’t peek?"
Naomi’s eyes narrowed. "Dorian."
He knew he was being difficult. The real question was why he was enjoying it so much. Maybe because she was pressed against him, warm and flustered, holding onto his shoulders as though he were the only thing keeping her upright.
Maybe because every time Naomi got nervous, she talked faster, and Dorian was discovering that provoking her had become disturbingly entertaining.
Or maybe because having her this close felt incredibly good.
The doorbell rang through the house. Naomi almost jumped.
"That’s our order."
"Close your eyes, please."
Dorian finally gave in. "Fine." He closed his eyes.
Naomi watched his face suspiciously. "No peeking."
"My eyes are closed."
"They better stay closed."
"Naomi, unless I have suddenly developed X-ray vision, I don’t know what else you expect me to do."
"Just stay like that."
Dorian sighed. Naomi slowly loosened one hand from his shoulder. Then the other. Now came the difficult part.
She had to bend down. Naomi began sliding downward carefully. Her eyes stayed locked on Dorian’s face.
His eyelids remained shut. She lowered herself farther. The towel was right there. Another few inches.
Naomi reached. Then immediately realized she had made a terrible strategic mistake. She probably should have looked down first. Her cheek brushed against the unmistakable evidence of his erection.
Dorian grunted and jerked forward on instinct. Her eyes went huge.
"Oh my God. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!"
"You really need to stop saying that while doing things that make the situation worse."
"I didn’t mean to! I was reaching for the towel! It was an accident!"
"Naomi."
Her fingers finally found the towel. She grabbed it like it was a life-saving device and shot back upright.
In record time, she wrapped it around herself and tucked the end firmly between her breasts.
"You can open now."
Dorian opened his eyes. Their gazes met. Then there came a very awkward silence. Naomi cleared her throat. Dorian cleared his too.
Then they both looked away at the same time. Dorian dragged a hand over his jaw.
"Now that..." He paused. "That is out of the way, I’ll go get the door."
"Please do."
He turned but stopped when his foot nearly landed on something.
The T-shirt.
He bent down, picked it up and placed it on the bed. "For you."
Naomi nodded. "Thank you." she squeezed her eyes shut in pure frustration after he left.
What the hell had just happened? She dropped onto the edge of the bed. This was the man she was supposed to spend six months married to?
Six months?
Naomi pressed both hands over her face. She was going to become a ball of tightened nerves with thunder and lightning firing through it by the end of this arrangement.
And she had not even agreed yet. Naomi groaned into her hands. Dorian was unsafe. But there was still Richard.
Her hands dropped into her lap. She still had to talk to her uncle first. Whatever Dorian offered, Naomi could not simply decide.
If she accepted Dorian’s offer without telling him, Richard would find out eventually. And when he did...
She knew exactly how ugly that could become. He had to approve or she would be done for.
*****
Adrian’s face was the first thing Dorian saw when he opened his eyes the next morning. Standing beside his bed. "Mr. Heathcliffe!"
Dorian groaned and rolled onto his other side. "What?"
"Sir, it’s eight a.m."
Dorian’s eyes flew open. He shot upright. "What?" he stared at Adrian as though his assistant had personally moved time forward just to annoy him.
"I’ve been calling you."
"Shit." Dorian dragged a hand over his face. "I slept late last night."
"Unusual," Adrian commented.
"Yes, unusual. Why did I sleep late?" Dorian frowned at absolutely nothing. Then everything from the night before rushed back at once.
Naomi.
Dinner.
Talking.
More talking.
An unbelievable amount of talking.
"Oh my God." He threw the covers aside and shuffled out of bed. "She’s here."
Adrian’s brows drew together. Dorian continued talking as he headed toward the bathroom.
"She kept talking and talking, and I..." He stopped, rubbed his face again and swore under his breath. "Goddammit. How am I supposed to spend six months with a chatterbox?"