Page 33 of Hiding Desire

“I tip when the service is worth it.” He winked at me.

I stood up and swayed. Woah! I gripped the chair for support, and the next minute, I tilted again. Sean had picked me up, and the room spun.

“Too much champagne,” he said, his pretty green eyes looking down at me.

“But it was so nice. Just like your aftershave.” I buried my nose in his warm neck and sighed.

This was nice.

“Fair play, let’s get you home, a chuisle.”

I snuggled into his warmth, and the jostling movements of his walking made the room spin a bit more, so I closed my eyes.

“Come on. Get into bed.” Sean’s voice roused me, and my room came into focus. I blinked at the bright side lamp on the side of my bed.

Strong fingers unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my legs. Were we having sex now?

“Not tonight, a chuisle. We’re sleeping,” he replied, even though I didn’t ask that question out loud.

“Are you a mind reader?” I slurred.

He chuckled, and I watched as he removed his suit jacket and waistcoat. His fingers moved quickly, opening his shirt and exposing his bronzed skin beneath.

“You’re very tanned,” I said, swallowing as saliva pooled, watching his muscular body come into view.

“I go to the Canaries regularly. I was there in the summer visiting friends. My ma’s sister has a pub in Lanzarote.”

I hummed, mesmerised by the skin appearing. I licked my lips. Did he say we weren’t having sex? There was a reason we shouldn’t, but I couldn’t remember it. He stripped to his boxers, climbed into my small bed, and moved behind me. His heat licked my back, and I sighed, burrowing in his warmth as his arms hauled me against him.

“Go to sleep.”

The reason this was a bad idea lay just outside of my reach, muted by the comfort and fuzziness filling my brain.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I mumbled as I fell asleep.

13

A headache beat at my temples while my bladder screamed a warning it would soon burst. My cheek rested against something warmer and firmer than my pillow. I blinked my eyes open, which spiked pain through my brain. Groaning, I lifted my head, and a string of dribble extended toward an expanse of man-chest.

What the hell?

Last night came back to me as I stared at Sean’s face. He looked younger and more relaxed in his sleep. Awake, he had a dangerous air, gorgeous but deadly.

My eyes dragged down his chest, which was densely packed with muscle. A faded tattoo on his left pec and another on his upper arm were the only visible tattoos. Scars littered his skin, some paler than others. His hand rested over the sheet, and his knuckles were a mess of scar tissue – a reminder of the life he led.

Although, he hadn’t taken advantage of my drunkenness last night. I remembered him putting me to bed. Mortifyingly, I’d asked if we were having sex, and he said no. Wouldn’t it have been the best time to take advantage? I didn’t know what to do with that information.

My fingers tingled, wanting to trace his skin, and, against my better judgment, I shuffled closer. My hand slid under the pillow and grazed something cold and hard. I froze and flipped it over. A gun lay on my sheets. My heart rate picked up. The image jolted me out of my lust-filled need to touch him. I replaced the cushion and slid out of bed.

Stupid. Stupid.

I shook my head, but that made me sway. Righting myself on the dresser, I fled out of the room to the bathroom.

Gah! A deranged panda with red eyes peered back at me from the mirror. I avoided my reflection, relieved my bladder, and quickly cleaned my teeth. Then I tamed the snarled tangles in my hair and removed my smudged makeup.

The pounding in my head had eased back, but that didn’t stop me from bumping headlong into Cat outside the bathroom.

“Are you ok?” Cat gripped my upper arms to stop me from toppling over.

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