Looking Inside

“I am kind of hungry, come to think of it.”

She liked the way his gaze trailed over her face and his small, knowing smile. “Then let’s get something to eat,” he said.

“I’ve got enough to feed an army in the fridge,” she said. “That is if you like either goose or Russian food.”

His brow quirked. “Russian food?”

“Yeah, some pelmeni, bliny, pirog?”

She smiled when he gave her a blank look.

“Dumplings, crepes or a meat pie?” she interpreted. “Along with loads of sour cream, it’s your basic diet for guaranteed clogged arteries.”

“My favorite kind,” he said, turning on his side and propping his head up on his elbow. The action brought him into easier striking distance. She leaned forward and ran her lips along his ribs. He grunted and plunged his fingers back in her hair, scooping it onto her back. “Your hair is ticklish,” he murmured, his fingers continuing to run the length of it. “And very soft.” She made a satisfied sound in her throat and buried her face in a rock-hard pectoral muscle.

“You’re lying. You must eat kale and cabbage, raw fish and steamed chicken to have a body like this,” she said, nuzzling his chest and

squeezing a bulging bicep through his shirtsleeve. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? Not that I’m complaining. You look extremely healthy.” Phenomenal, in fact. “But is the weight loss on purpose?”

“It’s just from working out like a madman. Especially lately.” He ran his hand down her naked spine and she sighed next to this skin.

“So you’ve been spending more time at the gym?”

“I have to.”

She lifted her head and gave him a dubious glance.

“Because of my new self-improvement routine. Well . . . my former one, since I’m apparently off it now.” His gaze lowered to her breasts in amused lechery.

“So that’s it? You’re completely off self-improvement, just because you slept with me?”

“You disapprove?” he asked, his voice gruff and low and delicious. He cupped the back of her head warmly. He brought her to him and kissed her mouth. He held her against him, their foreheads pressed together. “In my opinion, you were more than worth it.”

“I shouldn’t be blamed for ruining your self-improvement campaign. There’s no reason why you can’t better yourself and have sex with someone at once,” she insisted against his mouth.

“Maybe for most people. I seem to be the exception,” he said, loosening his hold on her.

“Why?”

He shrugged casually, but his expression was serious. She regretted ruining his mellow, playful mood with her questions, but she was so curious about him.

“I guess because my career has been my absolute focus for the past twelve years. When I did get involved in relationships, they tended to be a sideline to that.”

“A sideline?”

He grimaced. “That sounded bad, didn’t it? I just mean that BandBook, and then TalentNet, took up my whole focus. They became my entire life. Sometimes out of preference, but more often than not, out of necessity. Relationships with women tended to be more about . . .”

“Sex,” she filled in for him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Sometimes I wanted it to be more than just about that. It just never worked out that way. I’m starting to wonder if it ever will.” She became aware that he was studying her reaction very closely, and made an attempt to wipe the anxiety off her expression. She’d assured him she was fine engaging with him on a purely sexual basis, after all. His gaze narrowed on her. “Are you wondering if I’m a sex addict again?” he demanded.

“No. I never really thought that,” she insisted, laughing. “Really. I wouldn’t be with you if I believed that.”

He looked vaguely pacified. “My relationships do tend to be of the intense, short-lived variety.”

“Wild and out of control, and then they burn themselves out as quickly as they blazed to life?” she asked with false lightness. Kind of like what’s happening with us, for instance? What will happen eventually?

A feeling of dread began to settle on her.