She stood, aiming the key for the keyhole, but went still when he braced his palm against the doorframe, close to her head.
“I don’t need a flute to tell you I want you under my blanket with me,” he said quietly. “I’m not shy.”
She stood motionless but, in the moonlight, he could see her breathing hard. Her eyes were focused determinedly on the door, but the pulse in her throat pounded wildly.
“What do you have against me, Serena?”
Her gaze flashed to his. Her eyes were wide, yet the vibe he was getting off of her wasn’t fear. Not totally. She stood her ground, not backing away from him, but he saw how she pressed her thighs together. It was a tiny, sinuous move, almost imperceptible.
But he saw it.
And it made the erection in his jeans nearly burst through the zipper.
She might be a little scared of him, but there was more to it than that.
He moved in closer. She turned sharply to face him, but he backed her up against the door. Planting both hands flat on the wooden surface behind her, he trapped her. Her breath caught, and he let his body press against hers. She shuddered, and her hands came up to his shoulders, yet she didn’t push him away. It gave him the opportunity to just feel her.
And she was perfection. Soft skin. Warm curves. Hard nipples. For a moment, it was the only thing in his head.
She might not trust him, but she wanted him.
“Why are you afraid of me?” he asked. “What have I done?”
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “I… I can’t get involved with you. It’s just not in me.”
It felt like it was in her. He brushed his nose against her temple. He could get addicted to her skin. He wanted to feel it all over him. “I won’t hurt you, Little Feather, and I won’t let anyone else either. Stay with me tonight.”