Page 16 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

Goodness, was he already interested in doing it again?

He cleared his throat. ‘Up here, Beatrice.’ Her gaze shot to his face.

His wry tone was belied by the frown on his face. The guilty blush—because he had caught her staring at his crotch—bloomed across her collarbone and flooded her cheeks.

She tried to concentrate on his frown and interpret it as he perched on the bed next to her.

Had he been expecting her to get dressed and leave while he was in the bathroom? She had no idea what the etiquette was for a one-night stand, a hook-up. She sat up abruptly, clasping the sheet to her breasts. Why hadn’t she made her getaway while he was showering? Now she looked as clueless and unsophisticated as she actually was.

Time to find her panties and scram.

‘I should probably make a move,’ she murmured. But as she scooted away from him, he snagged her upper arm.

‘Not so fast, Beatrice. I have a question.’

‘Oh? Okay,’ she said, trying to sound nonchalant, not easy when her face had to be glowing brightly enough to be seen from space and he could probably feel her shaking. ‘What...what question?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?’

‘How did you know?’ she blurted out.

Then wanted to slap herself when his gaze sharpened. Why hadn’t she lied, played dumb?

She felt so exposed now, the sheet doing nothing to hide the blush, which had exploded.

‘I guessed,’ he said, letting go of her arm. ‘So, it’s true. I’m the first guy you’ve ever slept with.’

She wanted desperately to lie, but how could she when she’d totally outed herself already? Anyway, wouldn’t lying make her seem even more unsophisticated?

‘Well...yes. But it’s really not a big deal,’ she said, although of course it was.

Awkward, much. Could she actually seem more clueless and immature?

‘Why me?’ he asked, his voice gentle but his gaze acute.

‘I just... I just wasn’t ready before. But with you...’ She hesitated.

If only she knew what he was thinking. Was he annoyed? Freaked out? Embarrassed for her? Did he think the fact she’d waited so long, to then do it with a man she barely knew was sad, or funny, or simply pathetic?

It was impossible to tell, because his expression was completely unreadable.

‘But with me... What?’ he prompted.

She turned away from his probing gaze. The stunning view of the Docklands—laid out before them like a carpet of wonders—did nothing to make her feel any less silly and insignificant.

He took her chin in his hand to turn her face to his.

‘Out with it, Beatrice. I want to know why you didn’t sleep with the guy you were engaged to, but you slept with me.’

She heard it then, the edge in his voice.

Why was he so interested in her engagement to Jack Wolfe, when it felt about a million years ago now?

Although she supposed he did have a point. She wasn’t sure she had an answer for him though. Not a coherent one anyway, because she didn’t really knowwhyshe’d been so eager to leap into his arms this evening—when she’d never been reckless or impulsive or even turned on really, by Jack or any other guy, until now.

If only she knew why Mason looked so wary and tense.

He’d stopped calling her Princess. Even though she’d disliked the nickname at first, she missed it now. Because it had seemed light and teasing and affectionate, even if he had been mocking her. And for a moment it had made her feel like his equal.

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