Free Silk Scarves and Seduction by Shiloh Walker

to worship at your feet last night,” he whispered against her ear, catching the lobe in his teeth and tugging, the diamonds cold on his tongue. The scent of her filled his head, made him dizzy. “It’s harder than hell, feeling this way about a woman who thinks of you as an obnoxious jerk.”
    “Aren’t all men obnoxious jerks?” she asked, her voice distracted. She pushed gently at his shoulder, licking her lips, a puzzled little line between her brows. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    “As a heart attack,” he teased, reaching up and stroking that line between her brows, trying to hide his nervousness. She hadn’t said anything.
    She wasn’t laughing—so that was a good sign.
    But she wasn’t telling him anything either.
    She moved away, her robe still hanging open. She smoothed her hands over her hair, tossing it out of her eyes as she moved around the kitchen, moved back. He could see the wet from their combined climaxes on her thighs and damned if the sight didn’t turn him on even more.
    “It’s kind of funny, you know. I’ve had this nagging feeling for a while now, can’t stop thinking about you,” she said, a smile tilting up the corners of her lips. “You’re an annoying bastard to have in my head.”
    He grinned, the relief that flooded him shooting straight to his head and almost making him dizzy. “My parents would resent that. They were married by the time I was born you know,” he drawled.

Chapter Eight
    I’m sleeping with Marc Ford. No. We didn’t do too much sleeping.
    Although the few hours she had spent wrapped in his arms had been the sweetest hours of sleep she could remember.
    I’m having an affair with Marc Ford.
    Well, technically, that didn’t work, did it? We just had one night of mind-blowing, dazzling sex.
    And even that didn’t describe it. Affair sounded so…tawdry.
    I’m fucking Marc Ford. Well, that sounded hot, dirty and basic. But not quite…enough to describe it.
    None of those phrases sounded real to her.
    But she knew Tessa was going to ask.
    She had been dodging her best friend all week, letting her voicemail pick up, calling Tessa’s voicemail when she knew Tessa was likely to be unable to answer. So when the summons came on Wednesday morning, she knew time was up.
    Marc had spent two more nights with her.
    Monday night he hadn’t been able to, but he had called from the hospital and she had heard the sounds of soft newborn squalls and had pretty much understood why, before he even explained. The grim tension in his voice told her more than what he had been able to say.
    She hoped the baby made it. She felt her throat tighten as she thought of it.
    She had seen his face once or twice, on her trips to the office, when something had gone wrong. And nothing she could say, nothing anybody could say would help heal that hurt.
    But so many times, everything did go right.
    That was how he was able to deal with it, she supposed. And the solemn look she’d seen in his eyes on Tuesday, she’d kissed, teased, and soothed away. Because he simply wouldn’t talk about it, so that was all she had been able to do.
    En route to meet Tessa at the office, she rehearsed a million things in her head. Finally, she said aloud the only thing that felt right.
    “I’m in love with him. I only hope he’s in love with me, too.”
    Then she laughed derisively. “Damn it, that sounds so damned hokey.” As she stopped at a stoplight, she blew out a frustrated breath and wondered, Do men really even believe in love anymore? Do they start out believing in love or do we have to train them?
    Heaven knew she had hardly ever heard her dad tell her mom. Oh, she knew Dad had loved Mom, but he wasn’t very vocal with it. Caleb was—but Caleb was an anomaly in the world of men.
    He had been from the beginning. After all, how many guys knew from childhood who they were going to marry? He had come back from the Navy injured, and set about getting back on his feet and going after