“What are you doing?” she croaked when he reached for the button on his slacks.
“I’m going to take a shower. And then I’m going to bed.”
“How about one mug of cider?” She tried again, blinking out of the pheromone haze saturating the air between them.
“Knock yourself out. I’m not going down there.” His eyes on hers, he slowly pulled the belt through the loops of his pants and began rolling it.
Was it hot in here or was it just him?
When he reached for his zipper, she shut her eyes.
“Can you at least wait until I leave the room?”
“Aren’t we supposed to be practicing?”
Her eyes flew open, her cheeks heating with...something. Lust? Frustration? Frustrated lust?
But before she could take him to task, she saw one corner of his mouth lift in amusement.
“Thought you liked it when I joked.”
“All joking aside—” she cleared her throat “—there’s no need to practice the physical part.”
“You sure? A lengthy kiss usually follows the ‘I dos.’”
“I’m pretty sure I can wing a chaste marital kiss. Even with you.”
“You’re the boss.”
His gaze drifted to her mouth, that move as sensual as if he’d leaned forward to press his lips to hers.
“Right. I’ll be back up in an hour.”
“Take your time.”
She fished her room key out of her purse as she heard the rustle of clothing that—she guessed—was Emmett taking off his pants. Hand sweating on the knob, she exited and walked into the hallway, shutting their bedroom door behind her. No way was she turning around to see if he was a boxers or briefs guy.
No freaking way.