Insecure (Love Triumphs 1)

She scrambled over him and he wasn’t awake enough to stop her leaving. “I’m showering, then I’ll get us fed.”

He watched her grab her robe, her back to him. “Watch the floor for glass.”

Her eyes swept the floor. “How did that get there?”

“You, we... There was wrestling.”

She looked back at him, shrugging into the silk. “There was? I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“You don’t remember?” That was probably helpful.

“I was very drunk. My head is full of pygmies with drums. Did I win?”

He grinned. She was holding the robe closed in front of her, but there was a lot of smooth lean leg on display; leg she’s wrapped over his hip last night while she panted in his ear and dug her nails in his back.

“Don’t go. Let me feed you. Jay was here, he’ll have brought something amazing.” She might not remember last night, but did she remember the cuddling part this morning?

He struggled upright, rolling his head to stretch his neck.

“God, look at you, Mace. Tell me I took enormous advantage of you?”

He twisted his neck to watch her. “You really don’t remember?”

She pushed her hair away from her face, pressed her hand to her forehead. “There’s no way I just passed out.” She peeped through her fingers. “Is there?” She was laughing at him.

He shook his head and his brains must’ve shrunk; everything in his skull rattled.

“Just don’t go yet.”

He squinted at her. If she didn’t remember there was no point staying. “I have, ah, things to do today.”

“You can do them after I’ve fed you. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

She came over to the bed, speared her hand through his hair and tipped his head back. “You were good to me last night.”

He jerked out of her hold. She was guessing. “It was nothing special.”

A frown flickered over her face. Why did he say that? That’s not how he felt, but he didn’t need this to get more complicated. He needed to get out of here.

She stepped away from the bed, her arms folded tight over her chest. “Was I awful? Did I say dreadful things?”

He could pull the same memory trick. “Not that I remember.” It was smarter than telling her she’d turned intrigue into a drill bit that’d torn into his senses, putting a hole in his self-contained existence.

She nodded; a sharp little movement that tossed her hair and must’ve annoyed the pygmies because she closed her eyes. “I’ll have you out of here fed in half an hour.”

He could do breakfast. It’d be smart to feed his hangover. “I’d offer to make the coffee but I can’t work your kitchen. If you tell me where to find a dustpan, I’ll get the glass.”

“Join me in the shower and I’ll show you.”

“What?” His hands were fists in the sheet. That wasn’t going to cure him. That was giving this disease he felt for her new symptoms. “No. I should. I need. Ah.”

She gave him a half smile. “Don’t worry. I get it. I was vapid, boring or just...” she sighed, “awful.”

“No.” He let go the sheet and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The night was over. It was back to the world where things occasionally blew up for no good reason. “I have stuff to do.”

“Of course.” Her smile went professional along with her words. She turned to leave the room. “It’s under the sink.”