“I have friends.”
“Special friends?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He folded back the covers on her side, smoothing the flap like he was the one who worked at a hotel. “Maybe you could come back to bed? Just to talk.”
Jean snorted. “Like that’s going to happen.”
“The talking or—?”
“I’m not going to sleep with someone who thinks I’m a terrible person. Just because I haven’t got barrels of beer money doesn’t mean I have no standards.”
“I never thought you were terrible.”
“Save it.” Jean fastened her bra, then reached down for her dress, yanking it over her head. She paused with one arm through a sleeve. “You know what?”
He shook his head.
“Ishouldhave sex with you right now.” She yanked the dress off again, dropping it on the floor before reaching for the clasp of her bra.
“Oh.” His eyes were very wide. “That is—”
“And then I’ll walk out that door,” she said, over the sound of his sputtering, “never to be seen again. It would serve you right!”
He didn’t say anything for several long moments. “Would it serve you?”
Jean wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart. “How should I know? That’s why I’m freaking out.”
“It’s your choice.”
Even his niceness rubbed her the wrong way. “Why? Because you don’t care?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Storming back to the bed, Jean took a running leap onto the mattress. She was practically breathing fire. Charlie didn’t resist as she shoved him onto his back, or when she climbed over him, balancing on her hands and knees as she stared down into his eyes.
He should be petrified. Jean was in a dangerous mood. Nipple twisting was the least of what she could do to him. But Charlie just looked up at her, patient and hopeful, his gaze skating from her eyes to her lips. To her annoyance, he started to smile.
“Jean?”
“What?” she snapped.
“Is this the flying Pamchenko?”
“Don’t try to be cute.” Who was she kidding? It was too late for that. He was revoltingly adorable. Horribly and unfairly irresistible. What was wrong with her?
Striking like a cobra, she bit his bottom lip, immediately following it up with a hard kiss. Instead of whimpering in terror, Charlie opened his mouth and let her ravage him.
She changed the angle of her lips, worked her hands into his hair, sucked hard on his tongue. Again and again she kissed him, waiting for Charlie to beg for mercy. She was going to dominate him, and he would have no choice but to give in.
“Jean,” he sighed.
There! He was already murmuring her name like she owned him, body and soul. It was all going—there was a plan—and Jean felt—sogood. She was letting go, giving in, her mind emptying as her body took the wheel. When he gripped her waist withboth hands, she started to lower herself onto him until a last tattered thread of awareness slapped her between the eyes.
“Oh no you don’t.” She scrambled away from him, landing on her ass.
His hand came up to touch the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Don’t cry, Jean.”
