Page 78 of A Wicked Game

“Grateful!” he growled, his eyes narrowing to furious slits. “Pleasant?”

He sat up and she hastily averted her eyes as the covers dropped to his lap. Acres of tawny skin beckoned and her eyes seemed transfixed by the intriguing line of dark hair that arrowed from his navel down below the sheets. She clutched the covers tighter.

“Bloody hell, Harriet.Youmight not have the experience to know it, but last night was amazing. Incredible.”

That gave her pause.She’dthought it was wonderful, but what did she know? She would have thought anything he did to her was wonderful. He was the one with all the experience. If he said it was amazing then he must know what he was talking about. He wasn’t one to flatter.

She cleared her throat.

“I don’t deny that, physically, we’re an interesting combination. But you and I both know there can be nofuturefor the two of us. You’re about to go sailing off around the world again. Best to stop now, when we’ve had one wonderful night to remember.”

Morgan stared at her, dumbstruck. How many times had a man given this exact speech to dismiss a woman? How many times hadhegiven it?

Thank you, and goodbye.

It would have been amusing if his chest didn’t hurt so much. If his heart wasn’t starting a panicked thump at the realization that she was slipping away from him.

This should have been a moment of triumph. They were supposed to wake in each other’s arms and make love again—slowly, taking time to learn each other’s secrets. Drawing out the pleasure into the most exquisite kind of torture.

Instead, it was… all going wrong.

Why? She’d enjoyed herself last night; he was sure of it. He’d felt her body shudder with pleasure, felt her soften and surrender in his arms.

“Are you regretting what we did?” he asked cautiously.

“No, of course not.”

“Well, you can’t think I’ll tell anyone about this. I’d never blacken your reputation.”

“I know that.”

“There’s no chance you could be pregnant,” he said bluntly. “I made sure of that.”

She flushed scarlet. “And I thank you for that.”

He tried very hard not to glower at her, and probably failed. “Then what’s the problem?”

She bit her lip and he prayed for strength. God, she looked delectable, all mussed from sleep. He wanted to strip that prim cotton nightgown off her and make love to her all over again. His lazy morning erection stiffened even more at the thought. Bloody thing. It couldn’t tell the difference between fighting and foreplay.

Then again, with Harriet, fighting usuallywasforeplay.

Not in this case, however.

“Did you just use me for sex?” he growled.

Her sudden flush suggested he’d hit the nail on the head. “No! Not exactly, I—”

“You did!” he accused. “You wanted to see what the marriage bed would hold. Or to see what you’ll be missing if you never marry.”

“Morgan! That’s—”

Inexplicably annoyed, he flung back the covers and stood, enjoying her scandalized gasp as he granted her the glory of his naked backside. He should turn around and let her see the iron rod that was his erection, hethought savagely. That wouldreallygive her something to gasp about.

No. Showing her how much she affected him would put him at a distinct disadvantage. He couldn’t think straight when he was naked with her.

He grabbed his breeches from where they lay on the floor and pulled them on, and from the frantic rustling behind him he deduced that she’d also left the bed and was scrambling into some clothing of her own.

He turned and found her hastily belting the sash of a pretty aqua silk dressing robe. The sight almost robbed him of his anger. The fabric flowed over her lithe form, clearly outlining the peaks of her nipples below the flow of her unbound hair. His cock twitched, as if furious at having been constrained by his breeches. He took a deep, calming breath.

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