“Like Rodney,” she accused, knowing Blake wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons.
His nostrils flared. “Well, apparently you didn’t sleep with Rodney, or any of the other guys you’ve dated during the time I’ve known you.”
“No.” Had the covers just shifted lower on his abdomen? How could she look at those flat planes and long to touch him during the middle of an argument? How could she want him so much after three times during the night?
“Why not?” He moved, and the sheets barely covered vital parts.
“Because I didn’t want to.” Please don’t let the sheets slip lower. Not if she was to keep her sanity, her cool.
He punched his pillow, bunching the foam underneath him. He regarded her for several long seconds. “Why me?”
“Because…”
He stared at her, his expression as black as his eyes. “Was it was because of him?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Because Nix turned you on last night? Is that why you slept with me? Was sleeping with me some type of revenge?”
Was he crazy?
“Our having sex had nothing to do with Trey.” Far, far from it.
“Right.” He sounded angry. “We’ve known each other for a couple of years and nothing like this has happened. Throw loverboy into the picture and within twenty-four hours we’re going at it. You can’t tell me that’s coincidence.”
She could tell him lots of things. Like how hurt she was that he’d launched into an argument first thing that morning, when she’d been filled with such giddiness at what they’d shared.
“Believe what you want. I don’t care.” Okay, so she cared. Too much.
She had to get out of there now. Before she burst into tears. She swung her legs off the bed, hating that she was naked, but having no choice other than to pull the sheet around her toga-style. Somehow the thought of doing that made her feel more vulnerable than her nudity. To hide her body would be admitting she had something to hide.
How could she have thought of Trey when the man next to her consumed her every thought? The usual voices, the usual doubts—they hadn’t come. Only she’d come. Time and again, in Blake’s strong arms.
Shouldn’t she be the one with regrets? Blake should be an old pro at mornings after. This was her first. Surely there was something wrong with his being the one upset?
Of course she knew what the differences were. She’d been making love to him, and he’d been having sex with her.
Big difference.
This morning, first thing, he’d started a fight. Why? To put distance between them? To keep her from getting ideas that last night had meant something to him beyond sex?
Her back to him, she stood from the bed. Before she took a step, he grabbed her arm, pulled her back into the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Super-conscious of her nudity, she toppled onto him, her breasts squashing against his bare chest, making her even more aware of her lack of clothing. “Let me go.”
His gaze locked with hers, he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to him. He shook his head. His nose rubbed against hers more by accident than design. “Not until we finish this conversation.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” She wiggled against him, trying to free herself. After only a few seconds she realized all she was doing was turning them both on. He’d grown amazingly hard against her belly.
She’d grown amazingly hungry to feel him inside her.
Truth was, she’d awakened wanting him.
Had that been why he pulled her into bed? Because, despite whatever recriminations he had, he wanted her too? Had that been why she’d half-heartedly fought for her freedom, moving against his naked body with her own?
“Darby?” Her name came out on a low growl from deep in his throat. Desire shone in his eyes. Desire for her.
Her gaze lowered to his mouth. Soft, and full of the ability to give her pleasure. Maybe he was right. Maybe they did need to talk before this went further.