“Where are you going?’ she whispered in a sleep-laced voice that triggered images of the two of them in bed together, of her voice purring his name after a night of lovemaking.
“I know it sounds silly,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to be alone.”
God, he didn’t want that, either. He wanted to make love to her.
Instead, he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse. “If you need me just call.”
She nodded, closed her eyes again and curled into her bed. He ached to drop a kiss on her cheek, then her mouth, but remembered the doctor’s warning and forced himself to leave the room.
Still, his body hummed with arousal and a fierce hunger that could only be sated by Aspen.
A woman who saw him as a perfect stranger.
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