Unforgettable (The Dalton Gang #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

house.
    Especially having seen him naked and sober and fresh from the shower, the skin of his body lighter than that of his arms and his neck. A cowboy’s tan. His legs covered with hair the same dark brown as that cushioning his penis, as that thick in his armpits, as that matted wet in the center of his chest.
    And especially having stood in the open doorway of the bathroom and watched him give himself the pleasure she could’ve given him last night if she’d been willing to go to bed with a drunk. She hadn’t been. A case of “been there done that” way too often and never
ever
going to do it again. Boone wasn’t her ex. She knew that. But that knowledge didn’t change any of what had happened in her past to bring her to Crow Hill.
    “What do I owe you?”
    She hadn’t heard him behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, buried her face in the throw pillow she held, then placed it on the bed. She plumped it, too, made sure it was just right, made sure
she
was just right, before turning around. “I’m sorry, what?”
    He was clean and beautiful, his hair damp, his face sporting a day’s beard since she hadn’t offered him a razor. The clothes he’d worn last night now smelled of her laundry soap, like he smelled of her bath gel. Except he didn’t. On his skin, the grassy, green scent brought to mind the wide-open spaces, not the cool mountain meadows the label evoked.
    “This is the best bed and breakfast I’ve ever stayed in.” He took a step into the room. Took another. “I want to pay you for the night.”
    Her room seemed much smaller than it had just moments ago. “You paid me by not driving drunk. I didn’t have to worry about who you might run off the road.”
    “Would you have worried?” A dark brow went up.
    “Of course. Faith’s my friend,” she said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “You’re her brother.”
    “But you wouldn’t have worried just because it was me.” This time it was the corner of his mouth that lifted.
    “Yes, I’d have worried.” She crossed her arms, rubbed her hands up and down them, swallowed hard. “I like you.”
    “Good. Because I like you. And I’d like to give you something in exchange for your hospitality.”
    Oh, what she wanted him to give her. She reached for another of the throw pillows she’d tossed in a pile to the floor, plumping it, smoothing it, waiting until she’d positioned it exactly before saying, “That’s not necessary.”
    “Then at least let me thank you,” he said, and the air tightened around them.
    She could hardly find enough of it to breathe. The things she was thinking, the places her mind was going . . . “You just did.”
    He chuckled softly. “I’d like to thank you with something more than just words. Let me buy you supper.”
    “That would be nice.” But it wasn’t what she wanted. She knew exactly what she wanted. It was time. She was ready. And what better man than Boone Mitchell to help her forget the past? “On one condition.”
    “What’s that?”
    “You stay sober.” Because that was the only way this would happen. “And we come back here after.”
    His pulse jumped in the vein at his temple. “For a nightcap? Coffee?”
    Her pulse jumped between her legs. “I was thinking dessert.”
    “Dessert.” He walked deeper into the room, and he smelled of maple syrup, and her stomach tumbled.
    She nodded. If they were going to do this, she would have to make sure she didn’t get hurt. Not physically. Not emotionally. It would be an affair of bodies only, no strings, no attachments. “Dessert.”
    “Are you talking pie?” Another step. “Cake?” Another step. “Ice cream sundaes? I like ice cream sundaes.”
    “I’m talking me,” she said, her voice steady, confident, her nerves not.
    “You.”
    She reached for the last pillow, squeezing it with shaking fingers. The thing was, to get what she wanted, she couldn’t worry every time he reached toward her, lifted his hand, made an