But Bayli’s fingertips curled into his skin, the nails digging in. “This isn’t something…” She shook her head. “This isn’t…” She swore under her breath. “I’m not exactly sure what to do.…”
Rory sat up suddenly and that startled her all the more.
“Whoa!” she called out again. Gasped as his arms wrapped around her waist. “Rory!”
“What?”
Her gaze locked with his. “Jesus Christ. You’re … huge to begin with. So much bigger this way.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Bayli. Honey. You’ve never done it like this before?”
She stared at him, her mouth working as though she had something to say but couldn’t quite get the words to form.
“Bayli…” His arms tightened around her. “You’ve never been on top?”
“I—” She swallowed hard.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. Something incredibly unsettling was clicking into place. “Bayli, you weren’t a virgin before Christian, were you?”
This seemed to bring her around. A little too quickly and a little too volatilely—like a splash of cold water to the face.
The heels of her hands slammed against Rory’s shoulders to push him back and make him release her as she climbed off him and stood. She snatched up her thong and agitatedly jerked it on before reaching for her bra.
“Bayli—”
“I was not a virgin before Christian,” she angrily told Rory. She yanked her skirt up her long legs. “You really think that? Just because I don’t know every sexual position under the sun and have never had a dick in my ass, I’m some sort of country bump—” She shook her head. Pulled on her blouse and buttoned it while Rory got to his feet.
His brain lacked sufficient blood, admittedly, but he knew he’d struck a sour chord. He just wasn’t sure how he’d done it.
“Look, honey—”
“Christian told you, didn’t he?” she demanded as she searched for her small purse. “He told you all about my shitty-ass apartment and how I lied about where I lived so that he wouldn’t have to see it. How I was almost stranded out in the country because I don’t have a limo or a driver or any other fucking person to pick me up. He told you about the library, and probably about my job in Central Park, and how I’m broke and was so, so desperate for the hostess job at your restaurant.”
She stalked from the room, heading into the foyer.
“Hey!” he called after her. But he had to make a quick pit stop to rid himself of the condom and then grab his jeans. She was already out the door.
“Bayli, for fuck’s sake!” he yelled. And raced after her.
She was in the elevator when he threw open his apartment doors. “What the hell?” he all but roared. “What the fuck did I say … do?”
There were tears in her eyes. “I am just some naïve idiot trying to start a life too late in the game. And all this time … you really were just humoring me.”
He stalked toward her. “I didn’t call you after the interview, and I know that upset you. But you’re wrong about the reasons.”
“I can’t be an inside joke between the two of you.” She jammed her finger onto the button that made the elevator doors whoosh closed. Before he could lurch forward and stop them—stop her from leaving him.
His hands fisted at his sides.
“Son of a bitch!”
* * *
Bayli rushed from the elevator and out the revolving door at the entrance of Rory’s apartment building. A uniformed man with a cap and white gloves smiled politely and asked, “May I get you a taxi, miss?”
“Yes, please. Quickly.” She feared Rory was just two steps behind her. She continued to glance over her shoulder as the doorman used his whistle to hail a passing cab. Bayli fished a couple of bucks from her purse and handed the cash over. Then slid into the backseat, gave an address, and buried her face in her hands.
What. The. Hell?