Shane emerged from downstairs with a clothes basket in his hands. “Here.” He handed her a gray sweatshirt. “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed to a mud room on the other side of the kitchen.
Krista took the shirt from him. “Thanks.”
In the bathroom, she stripped off her sweatshirt and slipped Shane’s on. It was the USMC shirt that she’d seen him wear a million times. Wearing it felt incredibly intimate, and she almost yanked it back off.
Ever since their kiss the other night, she’d had a hard time thinking of anything else. Dinner had been fun, but strange as she once again caught him staring at her several times. And when her gaze met his, she’d known exactly what he’d been thinking.
Since the sweatshirt fell almost to her knees, she slipped off her denim shorts, but left her underwear on. If Shane was any other guy, there was no way she’d emerge from his bathroom clad only in a sweatshirt, underwear and socks, but kiss or no kiss, this was Shane. She had no worries about him taking it as an invitation when she opened the door and walked back into the kitchen.
The way his gaze zoned in on her bare legs and slid slowly up leaving a trail of warmth behind gave her second thoughts.
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