Having flung the chemise on the rug, she faced him.
"So, why don't you just tell me how and where you want me. Here? Or on the chaise-longue there?"
He turned sharply on his heel, reached the door with a speed that belied his shattered thigh-his state of arousal too-and slammed it shut. Then he turned the key.
What was wrong with him? If Tilly came by and saw him? Tilly coming by and seeing him was exactly what he'd wanted. He'd told her yesterday she could damn well pack her bags and get the hell out if she didn't like Cassidy Armstrong being here. But that was before, before Cassidy Armstrong stood here. Before his eyes drank in the sight of her long ivory legs, glowing in the soft firelight, her flawless breasts, and it hit him with the speed of a coach and four plunging down a crevi
