Alexia ignored the tremor that traveled from the place where their hands touched, along her arm and down her body, landing a quiver of want deep in her core. Any time now, it would be fan-fricking-tastic if her body could stop reacting to him like he’d been double-dipped in her favorite brand of pheromones.

She reached for her blue Jansport backpack, just next to the bedroom door. He made no move to let go or get out of her way, and she was forced to squeeze past his tree-trunk thigh in the process. She failed horribly at ignoring how frigging huge those legs of his were. How the V of her thighs brushed his leg when she passed, and how her body temperature climbed. Stop staring at his ass. “Right. Got everything ready to go, right here.” She cleared her throat.

“Great. I’ll drive,” he grumbled.

Did he realize, as he tugged her down the hall, that his fingers were still wrapped around her hand?