His all-too-real exasperation got to her and her spirits lifted a tad. They may not have had sex, but not from a lack of Cole having wanted to. Good.
“Most men don’t want women to be faking in bed,” she said, giving what she hoped was a sexy look of challenge. Something that might have been more effective if her hair wasn’t wild about her head, and who knew what her smudged slept-in makeup looked like?
“Tell me about it.” He snorted, taking measure of how she’d begun to relax. “Now what, Amelia? You didn’t answer me. Do I need to buy a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and ply you with whiskey to convince you to spend the day with me?”
Whether she’d meant to or not, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Despite the way things had ended the night before, Cole wanted to spend the day with her. In bed?
“You’d better tell me what you want to convince me to do before I answer.”
Good point. One Cole would think had a simple answer. But nothing about his relationship with this woman was simple and hadn’t been from the moment they’d met.
Last night, she’d begged him to make love to her, to kiss her all over. Hell, he’d been on his way, his hands on her bare waist with her lying back on the bed. He’d been trailing kisses over her abdomen, tasting the salty goodness of her skin, working his way lower.
Then she’d snored.
Snored.
Even with as frustrated as he’d felt, he’d laughed out loud.
“Amelia?” he’d asked, moving to her side, trying to rouse her.
“Cole?” she’d muttered, rolling to her side and curling against him without ever opening her eyes.
“I’m here, babe.” He’d wrapped his arms around her, knowing he wouldn’t be making love to her. Not tonight. But soon.
Her face had nuzzled against him. “I waited for you, Cole. I waited and waited and you left. Please don’t leave me again. I couldn’t bear it.”
Her sleepy request had pricked him, made him feel protective of her sleepy vulnerability, made him horribly guilty for past mistakes.
“I promise, Amelia. I won’t leave you.” He hadn’t wanted to leave her that first time, but another promise, to Clara, had demanded he do just that.
He had held her all night, waking several times amazed to find her really with him, curled against his body spoon fashion.
Not the way he’d planned to spend his first night in bed with Amelia, but not bad. Holding her, waking to her chocolate eyes was quite nice.
The fact that her eyes begged him to push her back on the mattress and take the decision of how they’d spend the day out of her hands, to not give her a choice so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty for her actions stole that nice feeling, though.
She didn’t want to take responsibility for what happened between them.
Not last night. Not today. Possibly never.
Which meant nothing could happen between them.
Hell.
He wasn’t a nice guy. It shouldn’t matter what her reasons were. She wanted him, was giving him a come-hither look, was visually asking him to make love to her right at this moment.
He wanted to make love to her. Which made his rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling in frustration all the more crazy.
“I thought we could go sightseeing.”
He didn’t have to look to know she wore a surprised expression. She was stunned. He was feeling a little stunned, too. She’d been flirting with him, waiting for him to take advantage of the fact they were in bed together, practically naked, and that he could easily seduce her.
Her vulnerability when she’d asked him not to leave her flashed through his mind again. Amelia was too important to jump the gun. Yes, he wanted her, but he wanted her to want him just as much, for her to be willing to admit that she wanted him rather than feel guilty about their lovemaking. This time there could be no guilt, no bad blood between them. They’d make love because it was what they both wanted, no recriminations.
“There’s an animal park not far from here,” he rushed on, needing to step away from his making-love thoughts. “We could take a taxi over, spend the morning there, grab some lunch, then wander through Little India, check out the shops and eat dinner at whatever restaurant takes our fancy.”
Mouth slightly slack, she stared at him as if she didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him. She did neither. She flopped back on the mattress, stared up at the ceiling along with him. The two of them must look a sight, both scantily clad, lying on their backs, staring up at a pristine white ceiling, frustration emanating from their bodies.