Page 47 of One Secret

'Where the hell have you been?'

I barely stumble heading into the bedroom, fully aware that a weaker being might cower under the glare Cyrus is leveling at me.

He's sat at the little desk, his arms folded and his posture akin to a disapproving parent on prom night. His legs are splayed and his natural confidence dominates the room but his mismatched eyes are framed in dark haloes.

It's barely noon and he looks exhausted.

'Good morning to you too,' I say, leaning inside the bathroom to dump my towel off for housekeeping. I'm amused to find the one Cyrus used this morning folded damp but neatly on the counter. Bracing my weight on the doorframe, I swing back into the bedroom and deliberately ignore Cyrus's grumpiness in favor of concern.

'You sleep okay?'

He'd been out cold when I woke up this morning but for the rest of the night… I was practically comatose. Caruso could have marched his army of hired goons over the mattress and I wouldn't have known any different.

Traveling never wiped me out this badly before but, these days, the pregnancy has me ready to drop by mid-afternoon. The stress of the journey had compounded the issue and ffft I went out like a light.

'Not particularly,' Cyrus growls with a hefty, extra dose of irritation. 'Now, where were you?'

I frown and plant my hands on my hips. I look pointedly down at myself, clad in a black bikini and board shorts. I adjust the sunglasses perched on my head.

'At the pool,' I deliver with effect. 'After sleeping so early yesterday, I was up before the sun. I was antsy and didn't want to disturb you.'

I also needed to get away. Despite the room boasting two beds, I stirred this morning to find Cyrus sharing mine. Worse still, at some point in the night, my body had sought out the long, hard length of his. By the time the sun was rising, my head was on Cyrus's shoulder, my breasts pressed up against his side and my legs wrapped hard around his thigh.

Warm and snuggly.

Like a possessive koala.

Being with Cyrus had always involved sex but never sleeping together. Not in the technical sense. Waking up beside him had been a novel experience.

A not-at-all unwelcome one.

At that moment, I wasn't sure which was scarier: the ease with which my subconscious had cleaved itself to Cyrus's side, or the seductive, peaceful warmth my conscious mind found waking up there.

Either way, it seemed wise to reaffirm a little distance.

'I'm sorry if I worried you,' I say, making my polite offering to the God of Grump in the desk chair. 'I thought I was being considerate.'

This is, apparently, entirely the wrong thing to say. Cyrus's frown darkens and he looks away, glaring at the bed he's made up. I spot cornered sheets and military-precise linens.

'A lot of that going around,' he snarls to himself.

I frown, lost in the conversation. It's clear that whatever's ticked Cyrus off is burrowed good and deep.

Setting down my bag and kicking off my flip-flops, I move to his side and lean against the desk.

I nudge the side of his thigh with my knee.

'You wanna talk about it?'

Whatever "it" is…

'No,' Cyrus grunts before breathing a long exhale. Some of the tension seems to leave his shoulders. He eyes me up and down. 'You feeling better?'

'Yeah. Sorry I passed out on you.'

'You sick?'

Not exactly.

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