She regained control of her breathing and pointedly looked at his hand. “Are you through manhandling me?”
He let her go and smiled. “You started it.”
“Times have changed, Ethan. I’ve changed.”
He only stood there, a stupid grin plastered on his face, body loose and relaxed against the wall, inspiring her to deep and nasty thoughts involving the soft bed in her room, the wall, the beach, hell, even the truck cab. She smothered a groan and willed her body to calm her racing heart, the insane pounding of desire that had been building since Galveston. Her limbs were heavy, weakened by the possibilities of being next door to the man who got her pulse racing with just one look. She’d dated in the ensuing years, but no one could affect her like Ethan. Damn him.
Delaney crossed her arms in an effort to hide her trembling hands, to prevent them from reaching for the forbidden. “You know Caroline is matchmaking, right?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the other wall. “I suspected.”
“So, what should we do about it?”
“Do about it?” He shrugged. “Nothing.”
She stared at him. “We have to do something.”
“Why? Unless you want to get back together. Even for the week. We could consider it a wedding gift. Make the bride happy.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? A wedding gift? No, I think that’s all in the past. We’re in the past.” She barked a laugh, trying to ignore the way her heart raced and her panties dampened at the thought of spending an entire week with Ethan, doing all the things they used to, with no pressure, no strings, just pure, unadulterated pleasure. She caught her breath at the sudden wave of desire, and Ethan’s eyes darkened, not missing a thing.
She stared at him, watching him like a cornered mouse watched a cat. Only this mouse wanted the cat to pounce. He pushed off the wall and gathered her close, hands on her waist, a finger slipping under her top to stroke the soft skin at the top of her capris, to dip under the waistband. She sucked in a breath and his scent filled her nose, taking the slow burn in her body to a raging fire.
She leaned close, tilting her head up to him, lips parted in an invitation. Right now, if he asked her to beg, she would, gladly. Anything to soothe the ache of desire. She only feared she’d get burned by the flames, left a charred husk at the end of the week. But what a way to go. It was glorious to feel desire, arousal, sexual attraction. It had been so long, so long since Ethan, since anyone had held her, and she was a quivering mass of tension.
He slowly lowered his head until his lips were millimeters from hers, his breath caressing her, mingling with her breath, a tangled mess of yearning.
“It’s not like we’ve never slept together,” he murmured against her lips.
“That was before. I thought you wanted to be friends.”
His hands stopped moving, caging her loosely, but he didn’t step back. “Of course. But you can see why she would want to play matchmaker.”
“Unfreakingbelievable. Get a room, would you? There’s one right there, for God’s sake.” A woman’s voice in a snotty tone broke into the haze.
Ethan slowly lifted his head, eyes clouded with desire and lust. Delaney fought the daze of desire, blood pounding in her ears and lower still. Her breasts were heavy and throbbing, and she found herself pressed against Ethan, breath held deep inside. She shook her head and untangled herself from him, face flaming with embarrassment. She willed her breathing to slow, even out, and she turned to face the speaker.
Anna Maria Costado stood in the hallway, hip cocked out to the side, suitcases all around her, arms crossed, foot tapping, irritation plain on her olive face. Behind her, Wyatt Turner grinned broadly, leaning against the wall, a duffel thrown over his back.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You weren’t interrupting anything. We were just talking,” Ethan replied smoothly.
“Sure you were, mate.” Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder, and they embraced in a manly way.
Delaney eyed Anna Maria. No welcoming hugs there. She was lucky Anna didn’t have a knife on her, the way she was glaring.
“Anna. Good to see you.” Delaney held out her hand, pleased to see it had stopped quivering.
Anna arched a perfectly manicured brow at the hand. “Is it? Wyatt, my room is down here. Bring my stuff, please.”
She pushed past Delaney, banging her with a suitcase. “Oops. Sorry, Delaney. Did I hurt you?”
The sickly sweet emphasis on the word hurt clued Delaney in that not everyone would be as forgiving as Caroline or even Ethan. She had a long way to go to repair the bridges she had burned if she decided she wanted to fix them.
“Stop being such a bitch, Anna. Why the hell did you bring so much shit?” Wyatt wrapped an arm around Anna, who shook it loose and glared at him. “Ethan and Delaney might have a good idea though. What do you think? Rekindle old flames?”
“Not going to happen, mister. No way. Not again,” she snarled. She stalked the remaining steps down the hall and into a room at the end.