Page 24 of Resisting Fate
Long minutes ticked by, his skin cooling. The urge to pull the blanket on intensified, but he’d be damned if he was the reason she spent the night. He’d wait her out.
She cleared her throat.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just had a tickle in my throat.”
“You cold?”Maybe want a blanket or to get dressed?
“I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.”Cold but good.
Damn, this woman played a mean game of chicken. She made no move to stay or go, and he couldn’t read her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she stayed. They could have more wild sex in the morning. So what if he didn’t sleep, right? It would be worth it.
Five minutes later, he offered the invitation, working hard to sound neutral about the whole idea. “Did you, uh, want to spend the night or…”
She sat up. “As much as I appreciate your reluctant invitation—”
“Who said it was reluctant?” Maybe a little vague. He didn’t want her to stay, yet he kinda did too.
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
He bit back a smile. “It seemed the thing to do. I didn’t know if you were a cuddler—”
“I’m not.”
“Cool. Me either.”
“We agreed no spending the night,” she said with some bite. Her feet hit the floor and she stood. Then she gathered her clothes off the floor and headed to the adjoining bathroom to dress, shutting the door behind her. Like he hadn’t just seen, touched, and licked every inch of her. That dressing-in-the-bathroom move, along with her sharp tone, meant he had to smooth things over. He didn’t want it to be a big thing when they saw each other again, as they inevitably would with all the friends they had in common. He wanted her to leave here feeling good.
He didn’t want her to leave.
He threw an arm over his eyes, tired but wound tight. Now he didn’t know what he wanted where Missy was concerned, and she was mad. Wild sex fucked with his thinking.
He pulled the covers up, propped the pillows behind him, and waited. When she finally emerged, fully dressed, he tried to soothe her ruffled feathers. “Hey, sexy thing.”
She laughed a little. “That’s better than cactus. Thanks for tonight. Sorry about my freak-out.”
“No problem. That’s on me.”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t you. My ex was bad news—” she waved that away “—you don’t need to hear all that stuff. It’s in the past.”
Except she was clearly still affected. “I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.” Nonjudgmental listening had been a way of life in his house with his social worker mom. Didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to share as a kid, but he always knew he could.
She worried her lower lip. “Thanks, but no. I’d like to just enjoy the afterglow. It was…well, you know, holy crap.” She brightened. “I guess that means good.”
Good?Just good? How about great? Outstanding! Phenomenal!
“Yup,” he said. The sex had been mind-blowing. Wasn’t it? She couldn’t have faked those full-body shudders. Right?
She slipped on her sneakers. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
A chest pang alarmed him because that felt like goodbye forever. “You too,” he half growled.
She walked over to him, leaned down, and kissed him. A quick peck, nothing more, then she walked out the door, smiling to herself.
He flopped down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. He should feel relaxed and happy. It wasn’t often the chemistry worked that well. He sat up, tossed the extra pillow off the bed, punched his own pillow, then flopped down on his side, staring at the open bedroom door.
