From the Inside Flap
Owen's voice, deep and decadent, flowed over her still flushed skin.
"Crap." She slid out of bed. "Really got to stop watching Grey's Anatomy reruns."
"Coming," she said louder then winced at the irony of her word choice. Because, damn...bad enough Dream Owen could nearly get her there; what chance did she have to resist the real deal while she was still half turned on?
"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," came his voice from behind the closed drapes.
"I'm awake. I'm awake."
Parts of her were very awake, so make that three-quarters turned on since a delicious shiver zipped down her spine at the thought of him outside her room. She tugged on her robe, catching a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror.
Resisting the real deal wouldn't be a problem. Rephrase that--Owen resisting her wouldn't be a problem. Not sporting frizzy hair like a before photo for a hair-straightening product, her face flushed carnation pink, and a deep pillowcase groove marking her cheek. Dead sexy. Not.
And, oh God--morning breath. Gracie lunged for her handbag and found a packet of mints. She popped one into her mouth and speed-crunched it as she tightened the robe's belt.
Finally, she yanked the full length drapes open to a bare-footed Owen wearing ancient blue jeans--which, yum, clung to his legs--and a plaid shirt layered over a white tee shirt. His short brown hair stuck up in a dozen different directions, and two days' worth of stubble covered his jaw. And, yeah, she'd noticed he hadn't shaved when he'd disappeared off to work yesterday morning.
Gracie slid open the door, and a wave of salt-tinted ocean breeze swept over her. She took a moment to suck a deep lungful down and hoped the fresh air flowing into her room would cool her jets. So to speak. Because even as jaded as Owen looked--and, bless him, it proved he was actually human--she still wanted to grab him by his plaid lapels and kiss the living daylights out of him again.