Free In the Dead of the Night by Terry Spear

blouse and the panic rose in his chest. He had no right to see her naked. If she knew what an imposter he was, she wouldn’t have dared expose herself to him.
    “I’ll be right back, Jenny.”
    “Help me remove my shorts, will you? I feel as though my fingers are working in slow motion. I’ll never get them off before I fall asleep.”
    He took a deep breath. “Sure.”
    It was just her shorts, for God’s sake. Get a grip . He wasn’t removing her panties, or making love to her. Yet when he grasped the button to her denim shorts, his fingers shook. He cursed himself for being so inept as he fumbled with the fastener. The sweat dribbled down the back of his neck.
    He finally jerked the button through the hole.
    She chuckled. “You know, you’re driving me insane, don’t you?” She touched his hand and pushed it lower.
    “Sorry. Button was stuck.” His voice was unnaturally husky, proving to himself he was losing control.
    He grasped the zipper. He had every intention of removing her shorts quickly, then covering her up and not giving it another thought. But when he attempted to slide her shorts down, she wiggled her bottom suggestively to help him, and he knew then he was in big trouble.
    After removing her shorts, his gaze focused on her white satin panties. A vee of lace pointed downward as if to direct him to the object of his desire.
    She finished unbuttoning her blouse and tugged it off. White lace embraced her full breasts lovingly, just like he wanted to do. Her rosy nipples peeked through the sensuous fabric, already hard, beckoning him to free them.
    He cleared his throat.
    “Are you going to join me?” she asked, patting the mattress beside her.
    “Yeah.” What the hell. He would remain dressed and lie with her quietly until she drifted off to sleep once the medicine kicked in. “Sleepy?”
    She yawned and nodded.
    He pulled the comforter over her. After he moved to the other side of the bed, he yanked his covers to the side.
    She frowned. “You’re not wearing all those clothes to lie down with me, are you?”
    He must have seemed like a real idiot. And damn, he hadn’t planned on stripping in front of her. He jerked his T-shirt over his head, then dropped it on the chair. Then he removed his shorts. Her eyes focused on his black satin boxers, and what she’d done to him to make them uncomfortably tight. If he stayed with her much longer, he’d have to get the next larger size.
    And the way she was going, she was bound to ask for her wifely rights soon enough. Then what would he do? No way could he make love to her, not while they lived a lie.
    He slid into bed, the first time he’d been with a woman other than his wife in years. Though even with her, their sex life had dropped to zilch. He’d come to think that part of his life was over. Now with a woman who in every way indicated she wanted him, and the response his body had to hers, showed he hadn’t lost the ability to have a healthy sexual relationship. Every bit of him wanted her, too.
    Only, it was all wrong.
    Damn it to hell . He wasn’t gay.
    Pulling her against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. “Sleep,” he whispered to her.
    Her soft body turned his even harder. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her silky skin, feel the firmness of her breasts, rub his thumbs over her taut nipples, and touch her where he had no business even thinking of going.
    Nestling her head against his chest, she hummed her pleasure. “This sure feels right. Thanks, honey, for being so understanding.”
    He kissed the top of her head. How could he marry her as his boss suggested when he didn’t even know her? When she didn’t know him? Even if it was a marriage of convenience of sorts. But shouldn’t she be made aware of it? He guessed he was to convince her that maybe reliving their “wedding” would trigger her memories.
    Before he could even suggest marrying her, he had to do everything in his power to help her to regain her