Trina nodded, but he wondered if she’d taken in what he said. “I suppose I should go to bed.”

But her tone wasn’t firm, and she stayed sitting on the edge of his bed.

“That would be a good idea.” But he didn’t move, either. He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers, stupid as it was to keep staring at her. He’d used up his reserves of willpower in that last retreat. What he needed was a cold shower, although he knew any effect it had would be temporary. Finally, he heard himself say her name. “Trina.” Nothing more.

She rose to her feet as if he’d tugged at an invisible string. Took a step. Then another. His heart pounded so hard, he heard it. The blood it was pumping was heading south, not to his head.

She whispered, “This isn’t...”

“A good idea.” He knew that, but no longer cared, not with her in touching distance.