He hadn’t even gotten inside her, and it had been one of the most intense sexual experiences of his life.

So intense, he hadn’t wanted to ruin it by pressing for something she’d clearly been uncomfortable with. Sex had been off the table, but he’d been so worked up. He’d thought it would take maybe a dozen strokes of his hand.

In the end, it had taken exactly one of hers.

Spent as he was, his cock gave a little twitch of interest inside his boxers. Which reminded him of what he was here to do.

Making a face, he got himself out and cleaned up the best he could. Not that he’d really made much of a mess of himself. His breath caught short at the image, seared into his mind, of his release on Kate’s pale skin. He hadn’t taken her, not yet, but that twisted animal hindbrain of his had enjoyed what claim he’d managed to stake.

A claim that had to be getting pretty damn uncomfortable by now.

He set the rag aside and ran a fresh one under the tap, as hot as he could stand, before squeezing it out and folding it up. He turned, stepping forward to face the open door leading onto the main room.

Kate lay there still, all creamy skin and the tumble of her hair against the white of the sheets. She was looking right at him, and for the first time all night, he felt self-conscious.

“You watching me?” he asked, putting on a smirk as he leaned against the doorway.

“You’re not the only one who can appreciate a view.”

It wasn’t ego stroking, and that was what made it hit him so squarely in the chest. He worked hard to look good—it was one of the only things he had to put effort into these days. It was nice to be appreciated. But it was also somehow something more.

The wryness to his smile melted away, leaving a curve to his mouth that felt entirely too genuine, and he’d curse himself later for being such a softie. But there wasn’t much to do about it now. Shaking his head, he crossed the room to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed at her side. She was still wearing that pretty blue lace bra, and it cupped her tits so perfectly. Made the soft pillows of the tops of them look all the fuller and more inviting. Resisting their temptation, he bent to nudge the sheet from where she’d draped it across her hip, leaving it high enough to hide her cunt without dragging through the puddle he’d left on her skin.

At the touch of the washcloth to her abdomen, she hummed. “Warm,” she said.

“Figured you’d like that.”

“Yeah.”

Once he’d wiped it all away, he bowed to press his lips to the hollow beside her hip. Planting his hand on the bed, he dropped another kiss on her navel and one on the top of each breast. He bypassed her lips, though, leaving a final one on her forehead.

He rose, pushing off to head to the bathroom.

“Thank you,” she said.

He paused. “You’re welcome?” It was an odd thing to say, right in that moment.

Apparently, she heard his confusion. “For everything. That, with the washcloth. It was nice. And . . . before. You were really patient with me.”

The insecurity dripping from her voice stopped him in his tracks. Forget the nasty rag in his hand. He rounded back toward the bed, dropped a knee to its edge, and probably with too much fierceness, insisted, “You do not need to thank me for that.”

What he really wanted to do was ask her what kind of assholes she’d been sleeping with. When you got a girl to be with you, you made damn sure she came, with your mouth or your fingers or your dick, and if she wasn’t cool with that, then by her own damn hand. Fuck anything else. And when you got a girl dirty, you sure as hell cleaned her up. Took care of her.

And just like that, he wanted to deck any guy who hadn’t done any of that for her before. She deserved better. So pretty and smart, so giving.

For a second, he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. Sure enough, when he looked at her again, she had a wariness to her expression, and no. That wasn’t okay.

He cupped her face and leaned down, covering her mouth with his as gently and as sweetly as he could. “It was a pleasure,” he promised. “Every single moment of it. A privilege.”

He slid his hand down her neck before pulling away.

On his way back to the bathroom, he flexed his fingers at his side, still feeling the warmth of her skin against his palm. More often than not, he went to bed with a woman once, and then he moved on. But he hadn’t been lying. She’d been beautiful in her pleasure, and it had been a privilege to give it to her.

A privilege he hoped he’d get to have again. At least once.

The man in the bathroom mirror stared at him, and he didn’t know who he’d been fooling. He hoped he could have her a lot more times than that.

As many times as he could before she left.

While the water was running in the other room, Kate took the opportunity to quietly freak the hell out. She’d only ever done the one-night stand thing once before, and that had been completely different. The guy had come to her place, and as soon as he was done, he’d left her there, sore and confused and desperate for a shower.

Nothing about this encounter seemed to be heading in that direction.

Still, sharing a bed with a guy wasn’t something she’d done a lot of. Rylan had told her explicitly that he’d gotten the room for the both of them, and they could split the cost for the rest of the time she was in town. It didn’t seem likely he was going to duck out, or that he expected her to. But what was she supposed to do now? It wasn’t that late, and she was way too jazzed to sleep.

Glancing over at the big hiker’s backpack he’d left against the wall, she scowled. He could have given her a heads-up about this whole plan of his. What she wouldn’t give for some fresh underwear and a T-shirt to change into now. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she played with the strap of her bra. She’d been wearing it all day, and the underwire was digging into her uncomfortably. She’d like to take it off, but . . . but then she’d be naked.

She rubbed the heel of her hand into her eye. He’d had his face between her legs, and here she was, worrying about him seeing her boobs.

“You wanna borrow a T-shirt or something?”

Somehow, she’d missed the sound of the tap shutting off. She turned, grateful, to find him standing in the doorway to the bathroom again.

“Yeah, actually. That would be really great.” She considered for a second. “I mean, we’re—we’re in for the night, right?”

“Unless you have something in particular you want to do.”

“No.” Her legs still felt like they might turn to jelly. Staying in sounded like a good idea.

He rummaged around in his bag for a second before tossing her a plain black undershirt. “You want a pair of boxers or something, too?”

She thought about it for a second before nodding. It would be better than nothing. Way better than the pair of panties she’d just about soaked through.

“They’re clean.” He passed over a crisp blue cotton pair. “Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you mind if I—?” He gestured at the jeans he hadn’t bothered to refasten, hanging loose around his hips.

She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And really, it was only fair, wasn’t it? He’d seen an awful lot of her. She should get to at least catch a glimpse of his legs. “It’s fine.”

He sat on the edge of the bed to tug off the shoes and socks she somehow hadn’t realized he still had on, followed by his pants. Stripped down to his boxers, he was even more attractive. Maybe because he was so comfortable in his skin. His gorgeous, smooth, golden-colored skin.

He smirked as he looked over at her, and she dropped her gaze from the lightly haired musculature of his calves. The man was a figure painter’s dream, an anatomy lesson waiting to happen, and she was dying for the chance to draw him.