He’d squeezed her hip. “We’d better return to the house and clean up.”
She’d nodded, but part of her hated to leave the swamp. It was so peaceful and private. Unlike the house where she’d had such a nice greeting from his nasty brother.
It’s just a date, she reminded herself for the hundredth time today. But after being held in Rodney’s arms, she wanted more than one date. A lot more.
They gathered the gear but said little on the walk back to the house. He’d been so gentle with that fish, and after their second debate, which she hadn’t planned, she still couldn’t find any reason not to like him.
When they reached the back door, he opened it for her.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “You go first.”
Let him deal with Jack. If the man saw her waltzing into his house, he’d probably accuse her of robbing the place and call the local sheriff. Although glad to see Rodney’s home, she’d be sure to insist on having their future dates somewhere else.
They set their gear down in the mud room. He took her hand and walked down the hall. The sound of snoring reverberated one of the closed doors.
“Good,” he whispered. “Jack’s asleep.”
Hopefully, he’d stay that way. Next, he led her through a nearby door. The room had to be almost as big as her apartment, and the varnished wood floors made it look timeless. It also had a king-sized bed, covered in a quilt, plus a plaid loveseat. Over the desk hung—what else—the Confederate flag.
Another one? The man must have lived a past life as a soldier during the Civil War. Although still not thrilled by the sight of the red thing, it didn’t make her quite as uncomfortable. Now, she knew what it meant—and didn’t mean—to him.
Checking out the bed kept her too busy, anyway. Would they end up in it? Her heart hammered at the idea of continuing what they’d started in the boat. She’d never craved a man so much. To fill her body, heart, and soul.
She’d never married because she hadn’t met the right person. Because, from watching her parents’ deep and abiding love for each other, she knew how the right one was supposed to feel.
Like Rodney.
He opened a door inside the spacious room and waved her toward it. Her jaw dropped at the size of his master bathroom. Nearly every surface gleamed white with dusky-gold accents. She grinned at the pale-green walls, which depicted swamp foliage.
“This room is pretty enough to live in,” she exclaimed.
He grabbed an enormous green towel and washcloth from the metal rack and set them on the vanity. “Here you go. Soap and shampoo are inside the stall. Do you need anything else?”
Their gazes caught and held…too long.
When he grabbed the belt buckle of his jeans, her gaze dropped to his hand and didn’t let go.
“I need a shower, too,” he said hoarsely. “And, well, there’s no flag in here.”
“I expected you to have one as a shower curtain,” she joked.
But she caught his drift. Running water would mask any sounds they made in case the evil brother woke up. Without taking her eyes off Rodney’s waist, she stooped to remove her sneakers. She straightened and padded toward him in slow motion. The thick rug massaged her feet, which only fed the desire rising inside her like a high tide.
Her hands got a mind of their own as they fastened around the big, round buckle and tugged it open. He jerked his zipper down and pulled off his tank top. Her nipples tightened so hard they ached. Ever since he’d rescued her at the rally, she’d wanted him. No, before that. She’d wanted him the first time she’d heard him sing.
She ran her palms over the warm, solid planes of his chest, but he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down. Lord, the man had a thick package. The bulge she’d always seen in his pants didn’t disappoint.
His eager erection was the best thing she’d ever felt, too. When she rubbed the length of him, a moan escaped him, and he slumped against the vanity. Before she could do it a second time, he growled and peeled off her clothes.
Her panties felt so wet, they were practically glued to her. Pulling them free released her scent—proof of how much she wanted him.
“Don’t move,” he said as he reclined against the vanity, watching her.
His gaze felt as heavy as a caress. In response, goose bumps popped up all over her flesh. They had a brief discussion about protection and decided they didn’t need it. Without another word, he walked her toward the shower and turned on the water. In moments, the glass-doored stall filled with steam.
Hot water pulsed over their bodies. Rodney’s hair looked even sexier wet. Long sheets of it framed his muscled flesh, which turned rosy in the hot water. His jutting organ reddened, too.
He sat on one of the built-in seats and pulled her back-first onto his lap as he had in the boat. His cock, slick and hard, rubbed against her buttocks. When would she feel it inside her? To fill her aching need? If he decided to act like a Southern gentleman now, she’d scream.
With his arms around her, he leaned toward the nearby soap dispenser, built into the shower wall, and squirted a dollop of pearly fluid into his palm. It reminded her of cum, which made her cleft burn even more. With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed it over her arms, releasing its herbal scent. Going back for more and more to cleanse her legs, back, and belly.
When he
