He showered, then she went into the bathroom while he got dressed. When she came out, he was standing by the window, staring out at the heavy tropical rain that had started to fall, pooling on the deck. She studied him for a moment without moving. He’d pulled on jeans but had yet to don a T-shirt, and her gaze lingered on his muscles and the beautiful curling tattoo, and she smiled as she thought about how she’d traced it with her tongue. Then she thought about the fact that she had merely minutes left with him. Four whole days and nights they’d shared, and now they were over. For a moment, she was tempted to ask whether he’d like to meet up after he finished work the next day—the night before she flew back. But they’d agreed on the timeline—he’d mentioned the four days right from the beginning, and she didn’t want to plead for extra time. He turned and looked over at her, but she didn’t say anything. Her throat tightened, but she was determined not to make a fuss.
What do You think about White-Hot Christmas (2011)?
