Keely turned, blocking Jack’s view as she pressed the bottle of beer to her lips and drained it. Damn. Her entire body—blood, muscles, tissues, bones—felt as if he’d zapped her with a cattle prod. Wobbly knees, dry throat, rapid heartbeat, damp panties, haywire responses from a simple touch? Damn embarrassing. Jack had stroked, whispered and teased until she was mere seconds from mounting him. She’d enjoyed plenty of lovers. Men who’d rocked her world in bed. But she’d never experienced such a visceral reaction to a man’s heated touch and the soothing cadence of a deep voice drifting across her skin. “Keely? You okay?” She jumped. Damn him. She would not be a freakin’ wreck of hormones in her own space. “You want another beer?” “You having one?” I’m having two. “Yep.” “Then I’ll take one. Since I bought them.” Keely booked it to the kitchen. She took her time uncapping the beer bottles, stalling really. But she needn’t have bothered; Jack was yakking on his cell phone when she returned.
