Maybe she hadn’t been the only one overthinking.
But when he clenched his jaw and hardened his gaze—lifting it from her bare legs and feet—she knew it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to act on whatever this was between them.
Suddenly she realized he was still wearing the polo and khakis that he’d worn to dinner. “You didn’t change?” she asked, feeling as if she’d just shown up to a party and was the only one dressed in costume.
“I need to go out for a little while. Go ahead and get some rest,” he said, all Mr. Business again.
In other words, don’t wait up. “Where are you going?”
She was beginning to read the little signs in his expressions, and this one said “curtain is down.” Granite curtain, and good luck lifting it.
“There’s something I have to take care of. It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?”
What choice did she have? She nodded, feelingunaccountably hurt. She knew that he didn’t have any obligation to tell her anything. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want him to.
If anything it was a harsh reminder that this little escapade didn’t mean anything. They might be temporarily stuck together, but in case she’d been under any illusions—which she might have been—as soon as he could be unstuck, he’d be going solo.
He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want her along. He’d promised to help her, but she knew that was all she could count on.
She wasn’t a girlfriend. She wasn’t a wife. She wasn’t anything.
One mind-blowing, never-felt-anything-like-that-in-her-life orgasm didn’t mean anything. She certainly didn’t have any kind of claim on him. Where he went was none of her business.
Maybe he was tired of her and needed a break. For all she knew he was going to a pub to drink and find someone he did want to pursue something with. He was a man. A very good-looking man, and he’d had more than one or two looks in his direction tonight as they left the restaurant and bar. If he wanted to pick someone up, she was sure it wouldn’t be difficult.
“All right,” she said in as normal a voice as she could manage. “Good night.”
She put her things down in a pile on the dresser and walked over to the bed. Choosing the side that was the farther from the door, she crawled under the duvet, pulled it over her shoulders, and turned on her side to face the wall.
There was a long pause where she was tempted to peek and see if he was looking at her. If he wanted to say something.
But she didn’t. A moment later, she heard him walk to the door, flip the light, and lock the door.
Then all she could hear was the sound of her own heart beating.
She lay there for a long time. Alone in the dark with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her, she felt the emotions of the past two days finally catching up with her.
Nineteen
She’d done the Bambi-eyes thing again, and it was eating away at him.
Dean hadn’t meant to be gone that long. He’d needed to make a call and hadn’t wanted to do it with her around. Taylor hadn’t answered, and Dean had instead left the LC a text telling him to call.
The whole thing had taken less than five minutes. But Dean hadn’t gone back to the room right away. He didn’t trust himself. Not with the thoughts that had been running through his mind when she appeared all freshly scrubbed, barefoot, and in that long T-shirt thing that made him feel as if he were back in high school, and she was wearing his football jersey. He’d always had a weakness for women wearing one of his shirts, but he’d never wanted to rip one off so badly.
He needed to calm the fuck down. Unwind. De-lust. Was that even a word? It didn’t matter; he needed to do it.
He was damned close to breaking his rule about drinking. Instead he sat outside for a while, let his body cool down, and then snuck back into the room long enough to retrieve a few things for a shower. The cold water didn’t do much, but his hand took the edge off his problem in short—very short—order. All he had to do was think about the night before—or that dress she’d been wearing—and he went off like a rocket.
Considerably less tense, if far from satisfied, Dean dried off and got ready for bed.
It was dark and quiet when he returned to the room. He tried not to make any noise when he put his stuff down and locked the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his shirt and removed his pants before slipping under the comforter. Unlike her, he hadn’t thought to buy something to sleep in. He’d be up before she was, so it wouldn’t matter. Besides, he burned hot and the room was stuffy even with the windows cracked.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, trying not to think about the woman sleeping a couple of feet away from him.
At least he thought she was sleeping. But then he realized she was too quiet. He should have been hearing the steady sounds of her breathing. Instead she seemed to be holding her breath.
When her breath hitched and she let out a muffled sob, he realized that was exactly what she’d been doing.
