She swiped her hand across her tee and then glanced down with wide eyes. Frantically, she buttoned up her shorts before glaring at me. “I don’t need you to explain my orgasm to me, thank you very much.”
I grabbed the whiskey and poured myself a glass. Before I could ask her if she wanted more wine, she took my glass and chugged back its contents. I was impressed. That shit was strong enough to put hair on a man’s chest.
“Please. Help yourself,” I murmured dryly.
She ran the back of her palm across her mouth and watched me, those bright blue eyes of hers sparkling with desire and irritation and . . . life. “Don’t mind if I do.”
I laughed. “Obviously.”
“So, uh.” Her gaze dipped down to my cock, and I swear she did more than just look. If I hadn’t been watching her so closely, I’d swear she touched me. “What now?”
I poured myself another glass. Judging from the raging erection she’d given me, I’d need it. And more. Maybe a whole bottle. I dumped some more whiskey into her wineglass and handed it to her. She took it but didn’t drink. “What do you mean?”
“You made me . . . you know. Finish.” She licked her lips, and her gaze dipped down again. I followed her bad example and chugged back my whiskey, my heart pounding in my ears. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t you need . . .?” She bit down on her swollen lower lip. It was sexy as hell. Damn her. “. . . to finish, too?”
“Is that an offer?” I asked, turning and facing her completely. I leaned against the counter and gripped the granite edges so tightly it hurt. “Because I only asked for a minute, and that minute is up.”
“No.” She straightened, her normal self-assurance slipping back into place. I’d thrown her off for a bit, but she was back now. The sparkle had returned to her eyes and it was like the events of the last day had never happened. I liked that about her. She kept her cool under fire and bounced back quickly. “But I can give you a few minutes of privacy if you need to take care of things.”
I choked on a moan. When I managed to swallow it down, I chuckled. It came out raspy. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Her mouth quirked up into a tiny smile. “Speaking of privacy, you won’t really have any. I’m off for the next two days. So I’ll be here all day, every day. Is that okay?”
No. I needed to distance myself from her. After that short time I’d spent making her cry out in pleasure, I knew one thing. I couldn’t let her get inside my head.
“Of course. This is your safe house for now.” I swallowed back the remainder of my drink and slid the glass across the counter. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Anything at all.
She nodded once. “Okay.”
An awkward silence fell, and I knew why. I’d dismissed her, and she didn’t know what to make of that. One minute, I’d been all over her, making her come. The next, I was acting as if she was a complete stranger. It’s what I did.
And that wasn’t about to change.
“Look, I—,” she started.
At the same time, I grabbed a shop rag off the counter. “I’ve got something—”
We both stopped talking.
“Go on,” she said, giving me a smile. It looked forced. “You first.”
“I was just going to say that I have some work to do downstairs.” I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced at the clock. It was after three a.m., and I was exhausted as hell, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep until she was tucked away in my bedroom, safe and sound. “I have a Mustang down there that needs to be finished by nine.”
“Oh.” She wrapped her arms around herself, her untouched whiskey hanging from her fingers. “I didn’t know you actually worked on the cars, considering . . . you know. Your real job.”
“I don’t have to. I like to. And no one knows I do it.” I dropped my arm to my side. It was true; no one else knew. Just one of the guys who worked for me, and he kept his mouth shut. Unlike me. Why had I told her that about myself? She didn’t give a damn what I did for a hobby. No one did. “Anyway, go to bed. I’ll be down there till it’s done.”
She watched me, those blue eyes of hers seeing too much. Her blond hair rested in front of her eyes, and she flicked it out of the way with a toss of her head. One strand stuck to her lips, and I almost moved it for her. But I forced myself to stop midreach.
“What about sharing the bed? Will you do that?”
Panic rose, choking off the words I tried to get out. I couldn’t open myself up to attack like that. Not even for her. “Not happening,” I said, my voice harder than before. She was asking me to let her closer than I’d ever let anyone before. To let my guard down and have her by my side when I was at my most vulnerable. It wasn’t going to happen. I gave her a grin, knowing I was showing just how badly I didn’t want to let her in. “Just sleep in my bed and stop worrying about me. I’m fine on the couch. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than the bunks in lockup.”
“But—”
I headed for the door, cutting her off midargument. “Be ready to go out late tomorrow afternoon. We need to sell this relationship.”