“It drove me nuts, plain and simple.” But he didn’t want to talk about Nikki. “Now get in the damn shower.”

He smacked her ass again to get her moving.

“Will you stop doing that?” she asked in exasperation as she stood up and padded over to her pile of clothes and bent to pick them up.

“Not if you keep doing that.”

She came straight up, ruining the view, and whirled around, her clothes pressed against her naked body, cheeks pink. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”

“Yep. And you like it. Admit it.” Grinning, Ty leaned back against his headboard, his arms behind his head, totally naked, with an erection reaching for the ceiling.

Her fingers squeezed her clothes tighter as her eyes crawled the length of his body, but she didn’t say anything.

“Admit it, Emma Jean.” The need to tease her was replaced with desire at her bold staring, and his voice deepened, roughened. “You like it when I touch you, when I push you down on the bed, when I fuck you. When I spank you. Tell me you like it.”

Visibly swallowing first, she whispered, “I like it.” Then she turned and rushed into his bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Ty banged his head back against the wall, mentally berating himself. He should have kept his damn mouth shut. Now Imogen was skittish and his dick was throbbing with a want that couldn’t be satisfied at the moment.

Climbing out of bed gingerly, wondering how he was going to shove his erection into a pair of boxers without it snapping off, he figured he got what he deserved.

And maybe if he shoveled enough grits in his mouth, he wouldn’t beg Imogen to come to Martinsville with him so he could make love to her sexy little ass every free second he had.

TY wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to make a big Southern breakfast. Imogen sat across from him at his kitchen table and watched him plow his way through eggs, ham, hash browns, three biscuits with gravy, grits, and a hunk of French bread with butter. If she ate that much food, she could guarantee she would be writhing in agony before vomiting.

But she was absolutely starving, not to mention she had a point to prove that she was no Nikki, so she ate a smaller portion than Ty of everything, except for the grits. Those she just couldn’t handle, and while she didn’t want to offend him, she wouldn’t make herself swallow them either.

He noticed, unfortunately, and commented on it. “You’re not eating your grits.”

“I don’t like them. It’s a texture issue. I’ve tried but I can’t have something wet and gelatinous and creamy in my mouth like that. I just can’t get it down my throat.”