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His devastating smile widened as he brought his fingertip to his own lips and licked off the errant drop of syrup he’d captured.
The jolt of awareness in her too-full stomach became a lightning bolt.
‘I’ll clear up,’ she said, lifting the two plates, suddenly frantic to find something—anything—to dispel the sexual tension building again at breakneck speed.
His hand clamped on her wrist, sending a lightning bolt deep into her abdomen. ‘Leave them,’ he said.
‘But it’s only fair...’ she began to babble, trying not to notice the sizzle of sensation where his thumb stroked her wrist. Could he feel her pulse going haywire? ‘If you cooked, I should—’
‘You can do them later,’ he interrupted, the smile disappearing. ‘First we need to talk.’
He released her wrist, and the reprieve made her light-headed. Talk? He only wanted to talk. Surely she could handle that without bursting into flames... Or begging...
She sank back onto her stool, grateful for the granite breakfast bar between them, and let go of the plates. She dropped her hands to her lap, just in case he could see her pulse still going nuts.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ she asked with as much guilelessness as she could muster, while frantically rubbing the spot on her wrist where his touch still burned.
He frowned. ‘You know what,’ he said, pinning her with that intense gaze which had always had the ability to slice right through all her denials. And all her defences. Not that she’d ever really had any with him.
‘It shouldn’t have happened...’ she said, her frantic pulse almost as insistent as the look on his face. Because what else could she say?
‘What shouldn’t have happened?’ he asked.
‘You know what.’ She threw his words back at him, feeling the pancakes starting to dance in her stomach as her pulse continued to jiggle and jive.
‘No, actually, I don’t,’ he said. ‘Are we talking about when you came apart in my arms when the lights cut out, or when you came apart after they came back on again?’
She stared at him, quite sure her cheeks were so bright now they were probably visible in San Francisco. Was he actually for real, or was he just trying to ram his point home? That she’d been a basket case last night in more ways than one?
‘It’s a serious question,’ he said.
Fabulous, so now he’s a mind-reader, too.
‘Both, I suppose,’ she said, giving him the only serious answer she had. ‘If you want me to apologise again for my behaviour, I will.’
Although she didn’t feel apologetic. She just felt... Pathetic. The way she always had as a child, looking for the approval she was never going to get.
But with Luke she’d taken that sad, desperate streak one step further and added hot sex to the mix.
Way to go, Cassie. You really know how to make yourself feel like a total loser.
He didn’t say anything, just continued to study her with that steady, inquisitive gaze.
She popped off the stool and reached for the dirty plates again. ‘I’ll do the dishes,’ she said, fairly sure their ‘talk’ was over.
‘Sit down,’ he said, before she could pick up the plates.
She plopped her bottom back on the stool, obeying him without question, and then wanted to kick herself for being such a doormat.
But then she spotted the shadows in his eyes and the pancakes flipped over in her stomach.
Was that pity? The same pity she’d seen last night? She tried not to let it humiliate her. But somehow she knew she deserved it. She’d lost her cool last night, exposed herself to ridicule and worse, and then tried to regain some semblance of control by igniting the explosive chemistry they shared.
She owed him an explanation...
She just didn’t want to give him one.
‘I really am sorry,’ she said.
