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As he fell into a fitful sleep he promised himself he would hustle her out first thing in the morning no matter how soft and tempting she looked in his bed. This was physical attraction. Pure and simple. All he had to do was control it, the way he’d been doing for years.
And he wasn’t going to ask a single one of those damn questions either.
Those were her choices. Her business. And nothing whatsoever to do with him.
CHAPTER SIX
NICK rolled his shoulders to ease out the kinks, and tried to persuade himself the freezing shower had refreshed him. Grabbing a pair of old sweatpants and a UCLA T-shirt out of the dresser, he slipped them on, his eyes fixed on the woman still curled on his bed.
He felt the familiar tightening in his groin. The sunlight streaming through the window gave her pale skin a soft glow and cast a halo of light over the curls of hair mussed around her cheek. She looked cuter than a Botticelli angel. His gaze dipped to the sliver of cleavage visible above the lapels of the robe she’d slept in. An exceptionally sexy Botticelli angel.
He pushed the drawer shut, a little too heavily, and steeled himself against the tinge of guilt when her eyes fluttered open.
It was nearly eleven. He needed to get going. He had a lot to do today. Especially if he was going to meet her for that appointment he’d promised. Which, now he thought about it, he wished he hadn’t. Seeing her again probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
She scrambled upright, her dazed expression finally focusing on him. The robe fell off one shoulder and she clutched the lapels together, covering herself too late to stop the shot of arousal hitting his crotch. He shoved his hands into the pockets of the sweatpants.
She pushed the hair out of her face with an unsteady hand. ‘I-I’m sorry, I overslept,’ she stammered, her voice smoky with sleep. ‘I should…’ She glanced around, disorientated. ‘I should get going.’
The apologetic tone kicked off his temper—which wasn’t in the best of conditions anyway. He’d had a total of four hours’ sleep and his body still seemed to have a mind of its own, despite the ice-cold shower he’d treated it to. ‘Stop apologising.’
‘I’m sorry?’
He propped his butt against the dresser, braced his hands against the surface as he studied her. ‘You just did it again.’
‘Did what?’ she asked, chewing on her full bottom lip, and making him want to chew on it too.
‘Said sorry.’
‘Oh, yes, I see. I’m sor—’ She stopped.
‘See what I mean,’ he said sharply, irritated by the flicker of vulnerability and confusion in her eyes. ‘Why do you keep apologising?’
‘I’ve outstayed my welcome,’ she said at last, which was hardly an answer. She lifted the duvet and he got a good look at her slim calves as she put her bare feet on the floor, reminding him how naked she was under his robe. ‘I’ll get my clothes, then get out of your way.’
‘They’re over there.’ He nodded towards the window seat in the bay.
He’d headed straight to the kitchen after waking up, to gulp down a gallon of water—but his throat had dried right up again when he’d spotted her clothing, draped across the living area. It had been hard as hell not to fantasise about taking the skimpy bit of lace and the heavy velvet gown off her as he’d gathered them off the floor and dumped them in the bedroom.
Hence the freezing shower.
‘Thank you.’ She crossed the room to the bay. ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom? I promise not to hog it this time.’
As she bent to pick up the clothes the robe gaped, and he spotted her nipple, before she covered it hastily.
‘Sure,’ he murmured, determined not to ask the question making his head hurt or give in to the desire to tug the robe off, and make the ripe peak harden against his tongue.
But then she walked past him and his hand shot out to grasp her forearm as the fresh sultry scent of her filled his nostrils. ‘Why me?’ he demanded.
She jerked to a halt, her violet eyes huge. ‘Sorry?’
‘Stop apolo—’ He cut off the surly command, seeing her flinch. ‘What made you pick me?’
Her long lashes hit her cheeks as her gaze dropped away, but she didn’t answer.
‘To be your first?’ he prompted, although he was pretty sure from the nuclear blush fanning out across her chest and spreading up her throat she had understood the question.
‘I don’t…’ She hesitated, her chin still tucked against her chest. ‘When you looked at me that first time, it made me feel…’ She addressed her toes, the words trailing into silence.
