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She shuffled across the bed, her overworked muscles protesting, and resentment peaked.
Well, at least she’d learned her lesson. No more wild, wanton, reckless flings, not for a while anyway. Because she was going to be paying the price for this one for days.
She swung her feet to the floor, glanced at the rain splashing against his bedroom window and sighed. And that was without even factoring in the long walk home through a hurricane.
She shifted to get up.
‘Maddy?’ She twisted round at the deep rumble of his voice. He stretched, propped one hand behind his head and reached out to stroke a finger down her arm, the self-satisfied smile still in place. ‘Going somewhere?’
Fabulous. Why couldn’t he have stayed in a coma so she could at least make a clean getaway? Resentment flared.
‘I’m going home,’ she said sharply. Did he even know how disappointing he’d been?
She tried to lift herself off the bed but his fingers circled her wrist.
‘Don’t go. Stay a while.’
What the heck for?
‘I can’t stay. I’ve got to get back,’ she said tightly, trying to keep her resentment out of her voice. Telling him how rubbish he was in bed would only make this more personal.
‘It’s still raining, your clothes are soaking wet and your bike has a puncture,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
His thumb skimmed across her pulse point and she trembled.
‘It’s not that far,’ she lied, snatching her hand away. She didn’t want to be touched. ‘I can always …’
‘You didn’t come,’ he interrupted, shocking her into silence. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Don’t worry; it’s not a problem,’ she said, not all that convinced the apology was sincere. If he felt bad about his abysmal performance, what was with that sheepish smile?
‘Really?’ He chuckled, annoying her even more. ‘What’s with the angry eyes, then?’
She tried to dim the glare. ‘I’m not angry,’ she said with exaggerated patience. This was getting awkward now as well as irritating. She was stark naked under the sheet she had clutched to her bosom and her nerve-endings were still popping and fizzing at the sight of that bare chest and washboard-lean six-pack—when they ought to know better by now. ‘I really have to go.’
She scanned the room for his sweatshirt. Where was the stupid thing?
He took her arm. ‘Why don’t you hear me out before you rush off?’
Oh, for …
‘Fine.’ She straightened, trapped and acutely aware of her nakedness. ‘But can I have the sweatshirt first?’ She didn’t know what he had to say and she didn’t really care. But she wasn’t listening to anything in the nude. ‘I think it’s on your side of the bed.’
His lips curved as he released her. Scooping the sweatshirt off the floor, he lobbed it to her. She heard his heavy sigh as she pulled it on.
‘So what did you want to say?’ she demanded when he remained silent, his gaze heating with lazy approval.
‘That I’m not usually that bad.’ He scraped the hair off his brow, the smile becoming almost boyish. ‘There are reasons for what happened that I won’t bore you with,’ he murmured, his eyes darkening to a rich cobalt. ‘Let me make it up to you.’
Maddy felt the pulse of response—and cursed her idiotic hormones. He might have that sexy, intense look down pat, but talk about false advertising.
‘That really isn’t necessary,’ she said primly. Another round like the last one would probably kill off her libido for good.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Look, Mr King—’ time to stop this stupid charade ‘—I’m not interested.’
‘Mr King?’ He sounded amused. ‘Was I that bad?’
