When he gets to the bed, he finally turns and sits on the mattress with rumpled sheets. I don’t know why, but seeing him sitting there, looking so ordinary, I find that I’m more nervous than I was the last time I was in his studio. At leastthatPhillipe, I understand.ThatPhillipe, I expect.
“Well, there’s plenty Ineed, Gemma, but I actually came down here to see if there’s anythingyouneed.”
How is he able to zero in on the very thing I have been thinking about or wondering?
I shake my head and lie. It seems my best option. “Nope. Nothing,” I tell him.
His lips purse and his eyes narrow. “Are you positive?”
No, I’m not positive,I want to yell,I have a hundred questions I want to ask you as well as a throbbing clit I want you to take care of, but I’m determined not to mention any of that.
“You slept in late again this morning,” he explains, looking at the clock.
He’s right. I’d left a message that I would meet him at nine a.m., and it is now ten fifteen.
“Oh, I didn’t sleep late. I was reading,” I explain.
Too late, I realize his obvious trap. I scold myself internally.
“Oh? And how’s that going?” he asks while he stands, moving toward me.
“Good,” I answer. I try to be vague, but he’s too intuitive.
He seems to know me too well, and he knows where I’ve read up to in the damn journal. When he stops in front of me, he reaches out to stroke my hair. Standing my ground, I refuse to move away—and if I’m honest, I also stay because I want him to touch me.
“It was much better than good,” he assures me.
“I don’t want to know,” I tell him.Lie number two.
He cups my cheeks, gently tugging me forward. I drop my hold on the robe and move my hands up to grip his wrists.
“Yes, you do,” he whispers across my lips. “You always have a million questions, so ask me, Gemma. What do you want to know?”
Blinking up into his curious eyes, I take a deep breath. I decide to take his advice, and I ask him what I want to know.
“Okay, what changed for you that morning?” Before I lose my nerve, I tack on, “Why were you so needy?”
His mouth tilts up on the side as he leans in to place a kiss against the corner of my mouth.
“Always asking me things I don’t expect.”
“So, answer me,” I press. My eyes stay focused on him, even though he is now extremely close, so keeping focus is becoming difficult.
He runs a hand down the side of my neck, lowering it into the top of my robe. He pushes it aside and looks down at what he’s revealed. I’m wearing a sheer pastel-pink camisole and little silk boxers that match.
“You expect answers when you’re dressed like that?” he asks.
I find myself smiling slightly. “You came to my room. Don’t try to change the topic. What made you needy that morning?”
His eyes come back up to focus on me. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing me back until I’m up against the door. Stepping in close to me, he places his palms on both sides of my head, caging me in.
“What makes any man needy, Gemma? A hot woman? Perhaps a naked one? Or maybe a woman dressed in pink, silky pajamas?”
I shake my head against the door. “No. This felt different. You seemed like you wanted to prove something to her. You made her crazy.”
“I didn’tmakeher anything,” he says in a cold tone.
It’s so different from anything I have ever heard that I actually flinch away from him.
