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She turned to leave, taking that first crucial step back from the abyss. Knowing the only way to survive now was to leave—and to never look back.
‘Juno, wait.’ Mac shot across the room.
What had he done? This was all his fault.
He’d seen the wariness, the confusion in her eyes when she’d told him she didn’t want him and he’d panicked.
But instead of seducing her, instead of stoking the passion between them and waiting for her response, the raw need had taken over and he’d lost control. He’d taken her, claimed her, pounding them both to orgasm, with no finesse and no thought to the consequences. And he’d ruined everything.
‘I’m sorry.’ He took her shoulders, massaged the chilled skin. ‘You’re not to blame for this. I am.’
He’d always known he couldn’t risk fathering a child. He stared at the backs of his hands, so large and rough against her delicate frame. His father’s hands.
She stiffened, making the tremor in her shoulders more pronounced. ‘You’re right, a pregnancy would be a disaster,’ she said. ‘But I’d rather not talk about it now.’
Why did she sound so formal, so polite?
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice even as he kissed the top of her head. ‘A good night’s sleep is what we both need. And we’ll sort this mess out in the morning.’ If he could just hold her, he could make it right.
She turned, shrugging off his hands. ‘I’m really tired. I think I’ll sleep in the guest suite.’
And with that she was gone.
He took a step forward, determined to get her to come back, then stopped himself.
Where the hell did he think he was going?
He had to get a grip, to ease off, to give her some space. To give them both some space.
They’d been living in each other’s pockets for close to two weeks and somehow he’d let the company, the sense of companionship get to him. Which was exactly why he’d lost leave of his senses in the shower. If this was going to work, he’d have to learn to start backing off. And that meant not giving in to every damn stupid urge where she was concerned.
One night without her beside him wouldn’t do any harm. In fact it would probably do them both a great deal of good.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MAC had revised his opinion a fair bit by eight the next morning, having spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in his empty bed.
Something about the way they’d parted had niggled constantly at the back of his mind. He’d been thoughtless and overbearing and she’d had every right to call him on it. But why hadn’t she been more angry, more upset with him? She’d been so calm, so controlled, and the more he thought about it, the more it unnerved him.
He had the definite feeling he’d missed something vitally important.
Juno sat at the table, finishing a bowl of muesli as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Hello there,’ he said, sounding heartier than he felt. ‘You sleep well?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, so politely it made him wince. She didn’t look up.
Undeterred, he placed his hand on her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek.
And she shifted away.
Damn it, what was this now? Was she mad with him after all?
He braced himself for the tirade he’d expected the night before, but she kept her head bent over the bowl and carried on scooping up the cereal in careful, precise spoonfuls.
Was she waiting for him to say something first? He sighed. Best to get it over with.
He grabbed the box of cereal, poured himself a generous helping while trying to figure out what to say without making an ass of himself.
