Do Me Right. Cindi Myers

no heed. He wanted her close to him in this moment. As close as she could be.

      He didn’t know how long they lay together like that before she prodded his shoulder. “Roll over,” she ordered.

      He complied, sliding out of her. Eyes still shut, he stripped off the condom, then realized he had no idea where to put it. “There’s a trash can in the bathroom,” she said.

      He nodded. “Bathroom.” He wasn’t sure he had the strength to roll over now, much less propel himself upright and to the bathroom.

      She took the condom from him and he opened his eyes in time to see her walking toward the bathroom, hips swaying, that gorgeous fall of black hair swinging in time to her movements. He closed his eyes again, smiling. Did he know how to pick them or what?

      5

      THERESA WOKE THE NEXT MORNING with the drowsy, sated feeling of having been thoroughly satisfied. She smiled at the memory of the previous night’s lovemaking. Her instincts about Kyle hadn’t been wrong; the man definitely knew what was what in the bedroom.

      She extended her arms over her head and pointed her toes in a long cat stretch, letting her body waken gradually to the softness of rumpled sheets, the diffused sunlight streaming around the edge of the blinds and the tantalizing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

      She heard the squeak of door hinges and opened her eyes to see Kyle walking toward her. He had the fingers of his good hand looped through two mugs of coffee, a plate of toast balanced precariously on top. “Mornin’, sleepy-head,” he drawled.

      The drawl and the smile that accompanied it sent a tickle of arousal through her middle. Or maybe it was the sight of him dressed only in jeans, the top button undone, bare feet peeking out from the hem. Since when had bare toes been sexy to her? Not to mention those killer abs and heart-stopping chest. How did a cowboy get to be so damned good-looking?

      She sat up, tucking the sheet up under her arms.

      “Ready for a little breakfast?” He set his burden on the nightstand and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, an unexpected, sweet gesture.

      She wrapped both hands around the mug and drank deeply. She’d never had a man bring her breakfast before. Sexy and macho she could handle. Sweet made her uneasy. “What’s with all this?” she asked, gesturing at the toast.

      He pulled a napkin from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her, along with a piece of toast. “I woke up and was hungry. Figured you might be, too. After all, we worked up quite an appetite last night.” His grin reduced her insides to mush.

      She nibbled toast, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Despite their rather strenuous night and the early hour, he radiated vitality and sex appeal. She debated shoving aside the food and attacking him.

      “What are you staring at?” He brushed crumbs from his hands.

      She shifted her eyes away from him, pretending great interest in the remaining toast. “What makes you think I was staring?”