breath was ragged when he jerked back. He’d be damned if she’d work him this way again, make him a victim of his own needs.
He tugged his jacket off her shoulders, tossed it aside. “Get out of those clothes.”
Something in her sank. With her lashes lowered, she reached around for the zipper of the skirt.
“No, I didn’t mean— God.” If she peeled herself out of that leather in front of him, he was lost. It was the confusion in her eyes that had him leveling his voice. “I meant I’d appreciate it if you changed into something else. Please.”
“I thought you—”
“I know what you thought.” He was dying here. “Just change, so I can talk to you.”
“All right.”
He knew it was a mistake to watch her walk toward the bedroom. But he was only human.
Inside, Regan stepped out of the ankle-breaking shoes, stripped off the red leather. It was good to breathe again. She wanted to be amused, at both of them, but she felt so incredibly stupid. She’d made a spectacle of herself, thrown aside every scrap of dignity. For nothing.
No, she thought as she fastened on pleated trousers. For him. She’d done it for him, and he didn’t even have the sense to appreciate it.
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