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I almost turned back toward the bedroom, afraid to interrupt the sanctity of his quiet morning, but when I stepped backward, my robe brushed a nearby lampshade, sending the lamp chain clinking against the metal base.
Foster tipped his head in my direction, a slight turn, but didn’t take his eyes off the view. “You’re up early.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Said the rooster to the chicken.”
He looked at me then, a quirk of a smile. “I’m not so good at the sleeping-in thing. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.” I stepped out of the dark and headed to the oversized chair near the window. When I sat, my body reminded me again of all I’d been through in the last few hours. But even the tenderness of my backside had a flash of lust zipping through me. God, I was a glutton for punishment. Since when was pain a good thing? I tucked my legs beneath me and resisted the urge to go over to Foster and kiss him good morning. “I’m not sure what woke me up. Maybe Pike’s snoring.”
Foster chuckled. “Don’t tell him he snores. It will devastate his Mr. Suave self-image.”
“Never.” I pantomimed zipping my mouth shut.
Foster’s smirk remained in place, but I sensed this lighthearted conversation was simply pretty decoration on top of a pile of crap that wasn’t been said. The lines around his mouth, the way he gripped his coffee, even the set of his shoulders had my nerves rising, my fingers fiddling with the tie of my terrycloth robe. He knew.
He released a long sigh and moved away from the window to perch on the arm of the couch across from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I stared down at fidgeting hands. “Tell you what?”
“Cela,” he said in that commanding tone he’d used in the bedroom. “Look at me.”
A hot quiver rippled through me, but I raised my gaze to him.
Sharp disapproval edged his features. “You left something pretty important off that list of yours.”
My cheeks heated. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Didn’t want to say anything?” he said, his exasperation loud in the dead quiet of the hotel room. “Cela, we could’ve hurt you. If you had told me, I would’ve been gentler, more tender. I hit you for Christ’s sake.” He dragged a hand through his already disheveled mop of hair. “Your first time’s supposed to be sweet and romantic and I . . .”
“Stop,” I said, sitting up taller in the chair. “You didn’t hurt me. And this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell either of you. The guy I told you about, the one who made fun of me? I had gone on a few dates with him and when things started to heat up, I let him know before anything happened. He laughed and asked if I was some religious fanatic. Then he left because taking a girl’s virginity was ‘too heavy’ for a hookup.”
“Well, thank God for that. That idiot definitely didn’t deserve to touch you. But you know I wouldn’t have done that.”
“I know you wouldn’t have teased me, but you would’ve backed out the instant you found out.”
“No, I wouldn’t’ve.”
“Liar,” I said, frustration building in me. “You just said it. Everybody has all these notions about what a first time is supposed to be like, and it freaks people out. Dudes are afraid the girl is going to cling to them like some let’s-be-together-forever teenager, and girls are afraid that i
f the heavens don’t open up and the angels don’t sing that it’s a losing-your-virginity failure. I didn’t want any of that.”
He shook his head. “What did you want?”
You, my mind whispered, exactly what happened. And angels had sung. Or maybe those were devils . . . I kicked the thought aside. “I wanted a good time. I wanted to get that big branded V off my resume before I have to go back home and start my real life.”
Something flickered through his blue eyes, like a biting wind in a winter storm. “A good time. Right. Well, that’s our specialty.”
He stood and walked back toward the window, dismissing me.
The iciness in his voice and stance cut though my thick robe, chilling my skin. The shift in his mood had my defenses rising, anger welling. “Isn’t it? Or are all those girls I’ve heard visit your apartment your ‘twu wuv.’”
His wince was almost imperceptible, but I caught it.
I rose to my feet, arms crossed. “Be honest, Foster. If I had told you last night that I was a virgin, would you have slept with me?”
He stared out the window, his jaw twitching, and I thought he may ignore me. But then after a few long seconds, he spun on his heel, set his coffee down, and stalked into my space.
His nearness had my thoughts scattering, my emotions splintering. Words wouldn’t come.
