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tenderness
where he’d been as savage as a pirate before turned her on all over again, but
her body was far too tired to do anything about it.
    He murmured soft words to her, called her “sweetheart” and
cared for her in a way that turned her to mush. Finally he turned off the water
and wrapped her in a warm, soft towel. He patted her dry, and only then grabbed
another towel and scrubbed it roughly over his body to dry himself.
    “Are they real?” she murmured, relaxed beyond anything she
could remember.
    “What?”
    She came to with a start. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said
that. I meant your eyes. Amazing color.”
    “Yes, they’re real.” He sounded amused, thank goodness.
    “I shouldn’t like this so much,” she said with a slight
laugh.
    “Why not? It gives me pleasure to do this for you and I’m
betting you don’t get spoiled too often.”
    “You’d be wrong,” she said, thinking of the way her family
cared for her. “But not like this.”
    “I wouldn’t know,” he said, but didn’t explain what he meant
and for the first time since they’d entered his apartment she felt a
constraint.
    Finally, while he was drying himself, she could look around.
    The bathroom was as luxurious as she’d imagine for a place
like this, but anyone could live here. Or it could be a hotel bathroom. A
toothbrush and paste in a mug and a zipped up toilet bag were the only signs of
his presence.
    “How long have you lived here?”
    “A year.”
    She found a towel to bundle her hair into and blot it partly
dry. She’d have to do it again tomorrow, when she had access to her conditioner
and straightener. Her hair had an annoying wave in it that she always tried to
blow out. Likely it would frizz around her head like a halo by the morning. She
hoped he liked fluffy hair.
    She followed him back into the bedroom and stood there,
taking too long to dry her hair and body. What did he want now? He might want
to put her in a taxi. That had happened before, and sometimes she’d be glad of
it, to reach her own bed for the majority of the night. But tonight she wanted
to feel him touching her. Feel the security of his touch. Strange because she’d
never felt that before; she just wasn’t a needy person. But she wouldn’t beg.
She wouldn’t even ask.
    She crossed the room and picked up her panties and her
dress, only to feel his heat warm her back. “You want to go? I can call you a
cab, come with you to make sure you get back to your parents’ house safe.”
    Okay, so she would ask. “Do you want me to go?”
    “Fuck, no. But if you want to, I won’t stop you.”
    She draped the dress over the back of the chair. “I don’t
want to,” she whispered.
    “Good.” He slid his arms around her. “Because I was
preparing to persuade you.” His shaky laugh ruffled her hair. “I try to be
civilized, but I’ve never had to try so hard before. Not in my worst days, the
days I can’t remember properly have I felt so—so needy. Come to bed,
sweetheart.”
    So she did.

Chapter Three
     
    He woke first, and she was still there. He’d worried that
she’d slip out and go home as soon as she could, as soon as this Jack guy
arrived at the café. She’d called him her partner, and last night he was so
desperate for her that he didn’t dare think that he was more to her. But he
could be. What if she’d used him to get back at this Jack guy? What if he’d let
himself be used?
    He couldn’t bring himself to care. Bad, but he didn’t. While
she was in his arms, she belonged to him and he’d do his best to see she stayed
there, at least for the immediate future. But she was there, lying in his arms,
reminding him that the night before wasn’t some kind of wish-fulfillment dream.
    He refrained from stroking a hand down her delectable form,
nestled so trustingly against him, because he might wake her. But when he
flipped the covers back, she only moved closer into him so he could admire her
all over again.
    Silky skin,