Chapter 24

I shut myself into the tiny bathroom and lean my back against the wooden door. I need a cold shower. A bucket of ice thrown over my head.

How am I going to survive three more nights on this trip?

Hopefully by sleeping in my own room in my own bed—alone, no cuddling.

The imprint of Thomas's body is still searing a blistering path down my front. It's like my skin is burning wherever we were touching and the adjoining areas are tingling with frustration. I really need that cold shower, but I need a change of clothes first.

I put this sweatshirt on at random just trying to add separation layers to Thomas's proximity. But today, we'll be cabbing straight to the conference center from Fiumicino Airport, and I can't very well show up in a Star Wars sweatshirt. I have to change into a suit.

I dart back out of the bathroom to grab the one I packed and, of course, pick the exact moment Thomas is pulling his cotton-white T-shirt over his back.

Transfixed, I stare as the muscles in his shoulders and lower back ripple under his skin.

I gasp, and Thomas turns to me, showing off even more perfect muscles.

I can't stop myself, my eyes travel over his sculpted pecs, down to his perfect six-pack, and to the V of muscles disappearing under the band of his gym shorts, which are hanging obscenely low on his hips. I drink it all in until Thomas clears his throat.

He's caught me staring because I'm being that obvious. My eyes snap back to his, and his eyebrows raise in amusement. My mouth goes dry and I have to force myself to look away from his handsome face and perfect body before I start drooling like a fool.

"Um, excuse me," I stammer as I rush past him toward my suitcase. "I need to grab a change of clothes."

Thomas chuckles behind me, and heat rises to my face while my heart races. I dig through my suitcase, snatching up a blouse and a black pencil skirt, anything to distract me from the way Thomas's upper body will be permanently imprinted in my memory—besides being already imprinted on my chest.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't keep lusting after him like this. It's distracting and unprofessional.

I grab the suit jacket last, trying to steady my breathing as I do so. When I turn back to face him, Thomas has already finished getting dressed and is sitting on the edge of his bed, putting on his shoes.

I eye him, skeptically for once and not appreciatively. "Is that how you're dressing for the conference?"

He blinks at me. "Aren't we stopping by the hotel in Rome before we go?"

I shake my head. "No time. Suit up."

And with that, I lock myself in the bathroom again. I shower quickly, give my hair an approximate blow-dry, and change into my suit. In front of the mirror, I arrange my hair in a professional low chignon, hiding the pink tips. I put basic makeup on and nod at myself in the mirror. I look professional enough, now all I have to do is to act professional and I'll be fine.

When I exit the bathroom, Thomas is still in his sweatpants. "What are you doing?"

Before answering, he takes me in. His eyes travel from my face down to my black skirt, lingering on my legs, but he doesn't comment. "I'd like to freshen up before I change into a suit."

Oh, right, I've been hogging all the bathroom time. Despite it being my fault, I chide him. "Be quick, we only have fifteen minutes before the shuttle to the airport gets here."

Thomas grins at me and stands up from the bed, grabbing his toiletries and a garment bag before heading into the bathroom. "I'll be quick, don't worry."

His shoulder brushes with mine, and my empty stomach flip flops on itself. I watch him disappear behind the door, trying to squash the now familiar flutter in my stomach.

Get a hold of yourself,I scold myself internally.

This isn't the time or the place to let my attraction to him get in the way.

While I wait for Thomas to finish his shower, and to distract myself from the thought that he's standing naked in the next room, I pack the last of my things and put on a pair of flats that I'll swap for heels at the conference center. I wait, sitting on the bed, biting on a nail and fighting not to nip the edge off, all the while wishing I could see through walls.

When Thomas finally emerges from the bathroom, I wish I'd let him keep his sweat-wear. Because the man standing in front of me now is like a walking, talking, breathing Armani ad come to life. His still-damp hair is swept back from his forehead, and his sharp jawline is neatly shaved. His crisp white dress shirt fits him like a glove, emphasizing the muscles in his chest. The dark-navy suit he's wearing is tailored to fit him impeccably, while a classy light-blue tie hangs around his neck slightly askew—a minor detail that makes him real, human, flesh and bones, and frustrated dreams.

A sudden urge to run my fingers through that neatly combed hair overpowers me. I want to tousle it while pulling him down to me by his tie to kiss him.

I swallow hard as he smirks at me, noticing me staring.

Thomas tilts his head. "Better?"

I don't know what possesses me, but I stand up and walk up to him to straighten his tie. As I stop a mere step away from him, the heat coming off his body hits me like a low drum in my belly, his spicy scent an attack on my senses. I try to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my chest as I adjust the knot of his tie, but it's no use. My fingers shake with an unbidden desire.

As I finish straightening his tie, I look up into his deep hazel eyes. The smirk is gone from his face. Thomas is looking down at me with an inscrutable expression. A lock of light-brown hair has escaped the comb-back and falls over his forehead, making him irresistible.

I pat his chest and try to speak like a normal person, but my words come out in a coarse whisper. "You're perfect now."

I take a step backward. He pushes the lock of hair back and turns away from me, going to zipper up the last of his stuff into his bag. Still giving me his shoulders, he says, "We should get going if we don't want to miss the shuttle."

I nod, trying to compose myself, and shake off the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him like there's no tomorrow.

We grab our suitcases and head out of the hotel room, walking side by side down the hallway. The tension between us tangible again.

We stop in front of the elevator, and while we wait for it to arrive, I can't bear to look at him.

A few more stiflingly awkward seconds, and Thomas leans down to whisper in my ear, "Campbell?"

My breath hitches in my throat. "Yes?"

"How do Ewoks communicate over long distances?"

The rigidity eases off my shoulders, and I look up at him, shaking my head, already smiling.

"With Ewokie Talkies." Thomas delivers the punchline, and we both chuckle.

The elevator doors slide open and we step inside. Maybe the trip will be fine after all. We'll be fine.