Page 35 of After-Party Consequences

She laughed. The man was nothing if not persistent.

‘Given what just happened, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ she said, but as she went to walk away, desperate to maintainwhat was left of her dignity—her mind racing with all the implications of what they’d just done—he snagged her wrist.

‘I hope you know, Charlotte. There’s no way of putting this genie back in its bottle. And I sure as hell don’t want to, do you?’

She should tell him she did, because that was the safest course. She had committed to spending five weeks on his arm. Sleeping with him would only confuse things more. But the knot in her throat swelled, cutting off the denial, and forcing her to blurt out the truth.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ she managed.

He tipped his head to one side, studying her for what felt like an eternity. Then he dropped his forehead to hers, his hands resting on her bare hips, making her more aware of her nakedness. ‘How about we both take a shower—’

‘I don’t think...’

‘Separately,’ he interrupted her interruption before the panic could take hold. ‘This place has two bathrooms,’ he added, ever practical. ‘But then I’d like to stay the night.’

The possessive demand made her heartbeat jump in her chest, Still she couldn’t find the will to tell him no. To establish any boundaries. And not just because she felt washed out, both emotionally and physically. But also because she wanted to be held, the way he had held her once before. She’d run out on him then. And maybe that was why this need had come back to bite them both on the arse.

Perhaps it really was just a case of getting this desire—and the yearning for his approval, which had to be a holdover from her childhood—out of her system once and for all.

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

She spent a good twenty minutes scrubbing the scent of him off her over-sensitised body in the shower. But after pulling on an old T-shirt, she found him lying in the huge double bed, waiting for her. With his dark hair damp and slicked back fromthat extraordinary face, and his chest bare—the phoenix tattoo flaring over one broad shoulder—her heart thundered against her ribs again.

Why did he have to look so irresistible? It wasn’t fair.

He lifted the sheet, beckoned her into the bed. ‘Don’t panic, Charlotte. I don’t plan to ravish you again...tonight. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’

She was pretty sure letting him care for her would only make things more dangerous. But she felt too tired to argue, or deny the pulse of longing, the swell of emotion making the knot in her throat start to ache.

Where was the harm in letting him watch over her for one night? When she felt so raw and on edge... She could establish that all-important distance after she’d regained her strength, and her sense of purpose, tomorrow.

No man had ever claimed her so comprehensively. Maybe she should give herself a break for feeling needy right now.

She climbed into the bed, rested her head on his shoulder as he tucked her against his side, and let the steady thuds of his heartbeat under her ear lull her into deep, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER TEN

WHENCHARLEYWOKEthe next morning, groggy and sore, it took her a moment to figure out where she was as the stream of sunlight illuminated the room’s luxurious furniture and stunning view. Then she became aware of Cade’s arm wrapped around her waist.

She could feel his breath, slow and steady on her nape, feel his warmth against her back, cocooning her. But the moment of calm, the feeling of security, was quickly obliterated by the twist of nausea in her belly.

She flung back the sheet as the twist sharpened and threatened to surge.

She raced across the thick carpeting, vaguely aware of Cade’s voice—husky with sleep—asking what was wrong behind her. She reached the bathroom just in time to flip up the toilet seat and heave.

Her tender stomach felt as if it were turning inside out as she lost everything she had eaten the night before. She didn’t hear him come into the bathroom until his hand stroked her hair back from her face.

Finally the endless retching stopped, and she collapsed onto the bathroom’s marble tiles, shaking.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of running water. He handed her a dampened flannel.

‘All through?’ he asked, his voice grave.

She nodded despite the achy exhaustion and the still jumpy sensation in her belly as she wiped her face. ‘It must have been something I ate,’ she said weakly.

This should be excruciatingly embarrassing, but she felt too awful to care.

He handed her a toothbrush. As soon as the peppermint scent of the paste he’d added hit her senses, her stomach rebelled again.

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