against the couch again. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re obviously upset so why don’t you stay. You can sleep here on the couch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. And if you need to borrow some clothes tomorrow morning, that’s totally fine.”
“I don’t mean to be crashing your honeymoon.”
“Oh, you’re not. We’ve already...” Daisy wiggled her brows “...honeymooned. Twice.”
“God.”
“Plus, we’re leaving for Maui tomorrow, so there’ll be plenty of...” Daisy made an obscene gesture that involved hip thrusts and pounding her fist against her hand.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Lots of sex.”
“Lots of sex,” Daisy confirmed with the biggest grin ever.
Gloria sighed. Daisy was happy and Gloria was happy for Daisy. But she was a little bit sad for herself at the same time. Things were going to be different from now on. She was going to miss Daisy and the thought made her feel incredibly lonely.
Still not a good reason to sleep with someone, particularly one who just happened to evoke the panic attacks that you thought you’d licked a long time ago.
“Besides, you’d have done the same for me.” Daisy gave her a big hug. “But, what I don’t understand is, why not just go back to your room? Ask him to leave. It’s your room.”
Gazing directly into her best friend’s eyes, she said, “Because, around that man, I don’t trust myself to not make the same mistake all over again.”
* * *
DILLON HADN’T SLEPT so well in a long time. Nothing like a warm feminine form to wake up to after a night of hotter-than-hell sex. He reached for the feminine form in question, with a mind to wake her up properly, a little repeat of last night’s performance, but there was no one there. The bed was cold.
Huh.
He sat up, scratching an itchy spot on his jaw. Light peeked in around the drapes, revealing clothes strewn all over the floor: one sexy, black high-heeled shoe lying on the dresser, the other caught in the ice bucket. He grinned, remembering how he’d asked her to leave them on. Nothing hotter than a woman in lingerie and heels. Then he’d taken them off and chucked them over his shoulder.
Goddamn, the little redhead was a firecracker.
Now. Where was she?
Dillon pushed himself out of bed, groaning, his lower back stiffening up like it always did. Too many bulls, too many rides. He stretched side to side to work out the stiffness.
“Gloria?”
No answer.
Maybe she was in the shower.
Nice. Heat washed over him at the thought. He always loved shower sex and he was willing to bet the bossy little woman loved it, too, because—damn—she pretty much seemed to love it all.
Ambling over to the bathroom, he knocked. “Hey? You in there?” When there was no answer, he turned the knob, but there was no one there.
Huh. He scratched the same damn spot. Maybe she’d gone for breakfast. He wished she’d woken him up first. They could have ordered room service, had breakfast in bed. He would have liked to see her first thing in the morning, sex-messy, ravenous...
Hot.
He’d have liked to kiss her midbreakfast, tasting the flavor of bacon, eggs and coffee in her mouth, her skin warm as he reached beneath the covers. He’d have taken the tray away and made love to her again.
Sounded like a damn fine way to begin the day.
After pulling on his briefs and dress pants, he found his suit jacket thrown over a chair and located his phone inside. She’d given him her number, hadn’t she? He scrolled. Yep. There it was, her whole name, middle name, too. He tapped a message—Where’d you go?—and barely sent it before he heard the sound of a key card sliding into the lock and the heavy hotel door opening.
With a grin, Dillon went to meet her. “Heya, darlin’. I just sent you a message.” He leaned down to kiss her but Gloria turned her face to the side.
Pulling back, he took a better look at her. Her face was scrubbed of all makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing some workout clothes that looked a couple of sizes too big. The result was that she looked young, fresh and innocent. Nothing wrong with that. It was the expression she was wearing that was all wrong.
Her face was pale. Her pretty lips pressed together. Her light eyes dark, as if the pupils ate up all the blue.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said.
“Why?”
“It’s late.” She looked at her phone. “Nine thirty.”
“Nine thirty? Holy shit, you really tired me out.” He grinned.
She frowned.
“What’s up?”
“I think you should go.” Her gaze was on his face but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Then her gaze traveled down, stopping at his chest before going lower. Red appeared out of nowhere, staining her neck and cheeks, making her glow as she struggled to raise her eyes. “Look, about last night. It was...”
He took a step closer and touched the red in her cheek. “Pretty frickin’ amazing.”
She let him touch her for a split second before stepping out of range. Shaking her head she said, “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” He dropped his hand.
“It was just sex.” She bit her lip. “I probably had too much champagne.”
He fell against the wall, his shoulder making a thud. Studying her close, he asked, “You telling me you regret last night?”
With narrowed eyes she said, “I’m not sure regret completely sums up the entirety of my remorse over last night.”
Holy shit. What the hell? “So when you were crying out, coming all around me, you didn’t like that?”
Her eyes were large, the same way animals looked when they were frightened and searching for an escape route. “I didn’t say the sex wasn’t good.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I just...” Her lips parted as she breathed audibly through her mouth. “We don’t like each other.”
“Uh-huh?”
“At all.” She waved between them. “This was just a by-product of that line between anger and passion, you know? Because you drive me crazy.”
He
