Free Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) by Abbie Zanders Page B

his hot tub every weekend and were gifted with an incredible night of passion. After the exemplary experience he’d given her, it was a distinct possibility.
    But why did that bother her so much, she thought as the sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at her insides?  She had no claim on him. They were both mature, consenting adults who’d found themselves in a perfect storm of hot tubbing, horniness, and opportunity.
    Did that make her a slut? Probably not, since he was the first guy she’d been with in over five years. It did, however, force her to seriously question her own intelligence.
    It wasn’t your brain doing the thinking , a snarky, yet sultry voice piped up. Yeah, that was the problem. She couldn’t summon any regret, though. He had been a fabulous lover, and missing out on that would have been a damn shame, even if it had been a one-time thing.
    He was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. It took her a few seconds to rewind and remember what it was he had asked. Something about him staying and causing her a problem.
    “Um, no. No problem. I can make other arrangements.”
    It was disappointing, though. This was the perfect setting for spinning tales of erotic romance. And, bruised ego aside, he was the perfect muse. Even if she hadn’t mapped out all those ripples and dips with her fingers and tongue, her creative juices would be flowing just by looking at him.
    “Why would you do that?” he asked.
    Her eyes met his briefly, turning away against the intensity of his gaze. He wasn’t serious, was he? Clearly, he didn’t find this morning-after scenario nearly as awkward as she did. To his credit, though, the sight of her chair no longer seemed to bother him. If anything, he seemed curious. His eyes kept flicking over her legs, as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She was half-tempted to lift her skirt and show him, but decided against it.
    “I thought, well, ...” she cleared her throat. Just say it, Mallory. “To be honest, I came here to get away myself, to get some work done.”
    That was true, at least. She did have an unhappy agent and a looming deadline, and this week was supposed to be all about writing. She’d gotten a lot done yesterday, but still had a long way to go before it could be considered complete. And thanks to him, she was ready to start on the next one.
    Of course , said that wicked, trouble-making voice as a series of muscles flexed and bunched with every lift of the fork to those firm, male lips, hands-on research totally counts as work .
    Shut the eff up , she told it, and squeezed her thighs stubbornly together.
    Warring emotions churned within her. Was he really considering sticking around? And if he was, would she be able to handle it? Just the two of them, in a remote cabin, tucked away from the rest of the world in a scenic mountain paradise. Even now, his presence swirled around her like some kind of invisible aphrodisiac, crafting wicked, steamy scenes in her mind’s eye.
    It was official. She was pathetic. On top of that, she was horny again.
    He was one hell of an inspiration, though. As long as she kept her distance – observing him from a purely professional point of view only – this might actually work.  Lord knew, just sitting across the table from him was filling her mind with all kinds of possibilities. Steamy ones that had the heat pooling between her thighs and would make her stories burn up the pages in the best possible way.
    * * *
    J ohnny was fascinated by the range of expressions that flitted over her features. They’d gone from unreadable, to annoyed, to worried, to aroused, and finally, determined. What was going on behind those expressive silvery-gray eyes of hers?
    He didn’t know, but he looked forward to finding out. Because he wasn’t going anywhere until he did. One taste wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He had to be smart about it, though. Stacey wasn’t the typical bar bunny he was used to.
    Forcing his