Page 50 of The Rented Bride

The door opened and Philip entered. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. Do you require help with your kilt?”

“Not tonight, Philip. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Philip canted his head in acknowledgement and closed the door. Trent stripped off his jacket and draped it over the standing valet located alongside the armoire. He dropped his cufflinks on the bureau, then began unbuttoning his shirt, but slowed, his mind on the lacy panties he’d seen in the drawer. The pink would barely cover the thatch of curls between Cassie’s legs. Was she stripping off a pair of panties like that right now? Dammit, he’d signed a contract that practically forbade him from such fantasies. He finished unbuttoning the shirt, then whipped it off his back and tossed it over the jacket.

The bathroom door opened.

Oh hell. He was in trouble. Cassie made pink cotton pajamas look as sexy as a black teddy and stilettos. He kept his eyes on her face, but didn’t miss the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nipples poked the ribbed fabric.

She froze mid step, her gaze shifting from his face, to his chest and dipping lower, then snapping back to his face. When their eyes met, he cocked a brow.

A blush tinted her cheeks, but she shrugged. “You look good in a kilt. Sue me for looking.” She walked past him to the closet and quickly hung up the dress. “If you don’t quit staring at me, you can sleep in the bathtub,” she said without rancor. A second later, she emerged from the closet and went to the bed.

Trent broke from the stare. “Can I have a pillow?” he asked as she slid beneath the sheet and blankets.

“Oh sorry. Of course.” She handed him one of the pillows. “You need a blanket, too.” She started to pull at the down-filled comforter.

He shook his head. There are more in the closet. I’ll get one. “Goodnight, Cassie.”

She mumbled something, rolled over and burrowed beneath the covers.