He had just hit send when a light knock came at his door—not his main door, but the door to Ms. Lahiri’s room. Figuring she wouldn’t knock if it weren’t important, he answered, still in his towel, shirtless, his hair uncombed and damp.
She stood there in that blue sari, the curve of her hips and her bare belly exposed, her mouth open as if she were about to say something. Her pupils dilated, her gaze sliding over him as if she’d never seen a man’s bare chest before. “I … uh…”
“Is it something important?”
“I just wanted to apologize.” Her gaze was fixed on his abs now. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was thoughtless of me.”
All the signs of sexual arousal were there—the flush in her cheeks, her dark pupils, the way she was looking at him, the rapid pulse at her throat.
Connor’s body responded, the rush of blood to his groin a warning that this was about to get extremely awkward. He willed his cock to knock it off, but it didn’t want to listen, not with a beautiful woman staring at him as if he were dinner.
She seemed to catch herself, her gaze lifting to meet his. “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to apologize.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He truly did, but he couldn’t stand here and chat about it. He started to close the door, afraid his dick was about to pitch a tent.
But she wasn’t done. “I don’t know why I said it. I was upset. I didn’t think about how it might come across to you.”
“Makes sense.” He didn’t want to shut the door in her face, but his dick wasn’t obeying orders. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I know you’re not like General Naing.”
“Damned by faint praise.” He closed the door enough to hide his groin, suppressing an insane impulse to drag her into his arms and shut her up with a kiss. “Maybe you should stop while you’re ahead.”
“Sorry.” She was flustered now, her gaze again on his chest. “You’ve been hurt.”
“Yeah. Shot. A few times.” If she didn’t move now, he was going to take her in his arms and kiss the hell out of her, his job be damned.
“I … uh... should let you dress. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” Connor shut the door, leaned back against it, looked down.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Shanti uploadedthe third and final video file, her mind filled with images of Connor. She’d known he was well-built. She’d been able to tell that from his biceps and the way his T-shirt stretched over his chest. But …wow.
Smooth, tanned skin. Pecs sprinkled with dark curls. Flat, dark nipples. Ridges of muscle on his abdomen. A trail of dark curls disappearing behind that towel. A very respectable bulge.
Very respectable.
Shanti shivered.
She’d mostly dated other attorneys, men who spent their days sitting at desks. Some of them liked to work out, but none of them looked like he did. She had never actually met a man with a six-pack or full pecs—or so many scars for that matter. The sight of him had made her blood run hot and turned her into a babbling idiot.
Her face burned at the memory of her own stupidity.
He probably didn’t notice.
He’d stood there, staring down at her like an angry Greek god, all that strength, all that physical power right at eye level.
What would it feel like to run her hands over him? What would it be like to have sex with him and have all that man and muscle focused on her?
You’ll never know.
She clenched her thighs together, tried to ease the ache there. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. No, she shouldn’t be, but who could blame her?
It had been more than a year since she’d slept with a man. Working sixty hours a week didn’t leave much time for dating, and the last guy she’d dated had been so awful in bed that he’d made her want to swear off men. Finding a woman’s clitoris couldn’t bethatdifficult.
While the file loaded, she closed her eyes and let herself imagine what it would be like to be in bed with Connor. Soft skin and hard muscle beneath her palms. Those lips on her mouth, on her nipples. That muscular ass clenching as he thrust into her.