If this were a movie, his next step would be to kiss her.
If it were a steamy one, the kiss would lead to so much more. He could suddenly see himself touching her, stroking the tip of his finger down the slick column of her throat, into the V of her blouse. Flicking it open, button after button, and pulling the fabric away from her heated skin.
In a moment as long as a single heartbeat, his mind had filled in all the blanks, seeing what it would be like to touch her, make love to her, without ever even learning her name. As if she were a present who’d landed in his arms just because he deserved her.
His body reacted—how could it not react?—but the position wasn’t awkward enough to make it incredibly obvious to her. But maybe she was aware, anyway. A pink flush had risen up her face and her lips had fallen apart so she could draw deep, shaky breaths. He could see the frantic racing of her pulse in her throat, and her body trembled.
Yeah. She knew. And judging by the warm, musky scent of woman that began to fill his every inhalation, he wasn’t the only one affected by the shocking encounter.
There’s one problem. This isn’t a movie.
Right. This was real life, she was a stranger and he, as far as he knew, was a nice guy. The woman was obviously confused, light-headed enough to fall when she moved too quickly. And she didn’t look like the type to have anonymous sex with someone she’d known for five minutes.
Time to end this, he knew. Time to put her on her feet, push her out the door and hope he ran into her again this week when she was steady, healthy and fully in control of her thoughts.
God, did he hope he’d been good enough in his life to be rewarded like that.
“This is a little awkward,” she finally whispered, as if realizing the cloud of lust had begun to lift from his brain and reality was returning.
“Easy for you to say. At least you have some clothes on.”
A tiny gasp escaped her lips. Reflexively, she cast a quick glance down at the floor. He followed the glance, seeing the same pile of white fabric she was seeing.
His towel. He’d dropped it when he’d lunged to catch her.
Yeah. He was naked. Completely naked, aroused at the feel of hot, musky, soft woman in his arms.
A woman who looked on the verge of...
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled.
Because she was no longer on the verge of anything. The beautiful stranger had fainted.
3
MADISON HAD BEEN HAVING the strangest dream. As she slowly woke up, feeling coolness on her face, she realized she must have drifted off on the plane. The cool air had to be coming from the vent over her seat.
She shifted, but didn’t open her eyes right away, liking the dream a little too much. In it, she’d already arrived at her destination—a tropical resort where she intended to hide out for a week. She’d entered her room, exhausted, sweaty, miserable and nauseous from the long cab ride—necessitated by her landing at the wrong Costa Rican airport. Just another example of how quickly she’d had to get out of the U.S., how desperate she’d been to get away.
Things hadn’t gotten much better on her arrival. The doorman had been arguing with a deliveryman, the guy at the check-in desk barely spoke English and kept suggesting she wait for a woman who was apparently on break. She’d lost patience, demanding her key and dragged her own suitcase through the thickly vegetative grounds.
Arriving in her room, wanting nothing but a cold shower and bed, she’d entered, kicked off her shoes, and had been stunned to behold a naked Adonis standing with his back toward her.
That was how she knew she’d been dreaming. Men that gorgeous, that utterly perfect, didn’t exist outside of dreams and fantasies. Even Tommy, admittedly one of the handsomest men alive, wasn’t built like that.
The man’s hair had been dark, almost black, short, thick and wavy. And his bare body had been a thing of art. Broad shoulders had flexed as he’d leaned in the doorway, as if wanting to soak up the outdoors. His strong back was delineated with muscle that rippled with his every movement. Smooth skin encased a slim waist and hips, and he had an unbelievably perfect butt and long, powerful legs.
He’d turned around to reveal a strong, handsome face, masculine and unforgettable. Broad of brow, with deep-set, heavily-lashed brown eyes, slashing cheekbones, jutting chin with a tiny cleft, and a sexy, half smiling mouth.
Unfortunately, her dream state hadn’t left him completely uncovered in the front. Her brain had inserted a coy white towel. She wanted to dive back into the dream to see it drop. Oh, she hoped she didn’t have to open her eyes before that towel dropped.
But, wait...it had dropped. Hadn’t it? For some reason, she remembered it on the floor. But she couldn’t remember if he’d let it fall as he took her into his arms to passionately kiss her or what. Stupid dream really needed to come back and fill in all the blanks. Or at least most of them. The most interesting ones. She wasn’t going to let herself wake up until it did, not even if they landed and started deboarding the plane.
“Open your eyes.”
She growled in her throat.
“Come on, open up. You’re okay.”
That voice was seriously messing with her good dream vibes. But it was, she had to concede, a nice voice. Deep, sexy, masculine. Was it a flight attendant, rousing her for landing? Or was she still dreaming about Mr. Tall, Dark and Built?
“Come on, sweetheart.” Coolness brushed her temples, soft, featherlight, then her mouth. “Take a sip.”
Moisture kissed her lips. Was her dream guy giving her champagne? She swallowed.
Water. Not champagne.
And that moisture on her temples was sliding down into her hairline.
And...and...this wasn’t a dream.
Her eyes flew open.
Definitely not a dream.
“You,” she breathed.
It had really happened. She’d arrived at the hotel, walked into her room, seen a gorgeous stranger, and, what? Fallen and hit her head or something? What other reason would there be for her to be...where was she?
It took only a second for her to gather her wits. Holy shit, she was lying flat on her back in a bed. And this handsome, bare-chested stranger was sitting right beside her, tenderly pressing a damp facecloth to her forehead, eyeing her with visible concern.
“You’re okay. Take deep breaths. Drink a little more.”
She obediently sipped from the water bottle he placed against her lips, trying to kick her brain back into operation.
“What happened?”
“You fainted.”
“I never faint.” Girlie-girls fainted, and Madison was not a girlie-girl. She’d never been the type who’d wilt like a flower, especially not in front of some man.
Some man who’d apparently picked her up, put her on the bed and taken care of her.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
She frowned, still having a hard time believing it.
“Why would I faint?”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Well, that could have something to do with it.”
Yes, it could.
“You don’t look like you’ve slept much lately, either.”
She