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The next thing she knew his hands were around her upper arms and he’d propelled her against a tree. The rough bark caught at her hair and tugged painfully at her scalp. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the moon. His face was wreathed in shadows, but by some trick of the light, she could see the color of his eyes as they burned in his face.
“How many and with whom?”
“You first or can’t you count that high?” His hands were gentle, and she knew instinctively he’d never hurt her.
“Five and the only one whose name I care to remember is yours. Now, will you be adding or subtracting to my number?” His perfect lips thinned as he waited for her response.
She tilted her nose in the air. “One.”
“Adding or subtracting, love?”
“Neither,” she whispered, not wanting to play any more games with him.
“I swore I wouldn’t ask this and that I didn’t care, but how many lovers have you had? How many men have touched your beautiful body? How many have plunged deep inside of you, experiencing every little flutter and the lush moans you make when you’re completely filled to,” He teased the hollow of her throat with an long finger, “here?”
She sucked in a breath, aroused by his words and blatant display of jealousy. “None of your business.”
Christian’s mouth lowered to hers, brushing over her lips with infinite gentleness. “I promise not to be angry.” He raised his head and barked out a laugh, “No, I won’t. I can’t promise that. Tell me, baby. How many?”
Swallowing hard, she said, “Just you. Happy?”
His mouth dropped open.
She shrugged out of his embrace, ducked under his arm, and left him standing in the space they’d both occupied.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was past midnight when Christian’s Suburban pulled in the drive. The headlights beamed briefly through the front picture window of her house. Her heart tripled its beat.
She clicked the television off and quickly headed to her office, still unwilling and too angry to talk to him. Even after two hours of fuming. Of staring at his clothes in her closet. His shaving kit with her cosmetics. His ridiculous—okay, cute—PEZ collection mixed in with her crystal fairies. The coyote one had looked like he was about to take a bite out of the closest wood sprite, so she’d flicked him over with the tip of her finger.
In less than three weeks’ time Christian had made his mark on her home, but it wasn’t overpowering. He didn’t demand she change anything. Didn’t criticize her taste or lack of it, according to her mother. Only blended in as if his things had always been there. As if he had always been there as well.
The door opened and shut, Christian’s heavy footsteps coming to a stop.
“Watch it, Miss Wood Sprite. Mr. Coyote will not be happy if you keep teasing him,” she heard him say. “There, everyone’s as they should be. Cheers.”
She shook her head, trying not to be charmed by his antics.
A few seconds later, he stood in the doorway, watching her with hooded eyes.
“Did you have fun with my brothers?” she asked coolly, keeping her fingers moving over the keyboard.
“Actually, it wasn’t bad. Heath’s a good sort, Logan bought my drinks, and as long as I don’t ever turn my back on Luke, I’ll keep living to see the next day,” he said, his playful mood nothing like the man in the forest. “What are you writing?”
“A scene with Dimitri and Katrina.” She tensed, pain starting along the lines of her shoulder blades. Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. He hadn’t said anything about her writing since moving in with her.
“You know, I finished reading your books.”
The pain traveled to her neck. “And?”
“I’m quite pleased with how you’ve portrayed Dimitri.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against one side of the doorframe. “I can see why your fans love him.”
“So the fact that I’m continuing the series isn’t a deal breaker for you?”
“Do you want it to be?”
She hesitated, mulling over the answers that would make him stay or possibly jumpstart his departure. “I don’t want to stop writing something I love.” The light in his impossibly beautiful eyes dimmed. “But I don’t want to hurt you either.”
“I might have overreacted to your confession.” One side of his mouth curved up and the pain inside of her eased. “And I don’t want to hurt you either. You don’t need my permission to write anything. Just…you hurt me.”
“I know,” she said. “Where does that leave us?”
His smile became wicked. “It leaves me with the expectation that Dimitri will remain your fans’ favorite and not that do-gooder Joshua.”
“Oh, you do?” She hadn’t realized how much she needed his forgiveness, his acceptance and understanding until this moment.
“Dimitri is based on me, after all.” He wriggled his brows at her, then moved to stand behind her. His hands came down on her shoulders, massaging her back and working out knots she didn’t know existed. “He licked her quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog? I’ve never heard the female anatomy described quite like that.”
“What?” She glanced at her screen. Sure enough she’d written that sentence about ten times in a row, in the middle of a love scene. “Oh that. I always type something silly when I have writer’s block.”
“There are other ways to get inspired.”
“Like?” she asked, then it dawned on her. “Christian!”
“Just trying to help.” His thumbs continued to move in lazy circles. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About what?” she hedged, knowing the subject had moved from fictional characters to them. And that night.
He swiveled her chair around and kneeled before her. “That it was your first time.”
“I did tell you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“As faulty as a man’s memory can be, I am actually quite certain I would have remembered the words ‘I am a virgin’ coming out of your mouth.” He took her cold hands in his and rubbed her knuckles. “I was stone cold sober that night. First time in years. Unfortunately, my sobriety didn’t last long.”
She shifted in her chair. “I told you I’d never done that before. Right before you, um… Oh, you know!” Her cheeks heated and she hated it. Hated how he made her feel like a child while he was some worldly man. Which he was, but she wasn’t an ingénue.
