a deep breath, she exited the bedroom and quietly walked toward the stairs. She had no idea if Cam was even here, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to her late exit from his bed.
She tiptoed down the stairs and when she reached the bottom, she was greeted by a tall, somber-looking man who was an indeterminate age somewhere between forty and seventy.
“Miss Laingley, the car is out front waiting to take you into the city.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. Has it been waiting long? I’m afraid I overslept.”
The older man smiled kindly at her. “Not at all. There’s no need to offer an apology. Come, I’ll see you out.”
He offered his arm, but that was awkward so she pretended not to see and walked ahead of him toward the massive double front doors. She paused when she got there, suddenly realizing she hadn’t gotten her coat. With a frown, she turned, only to see the man holding it open for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
No matter what Cam had said about it being a while, it was obvious she wasn’t the first woman he’d given such a spiel to. His butler or whatever the hell this guy was had the whole process way too down pat.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and then pulled the coat closed as the man opened the door. Cold air billowed in and Pippa blinked at the sudden white. Then she smiled. “It snowed!”
“Indeed it did. At least six inches according to the weather.”
This time when he offered his arm, Pippa took it to descend the steps. She still had on those toothpick heels she’d worn the night before, and while they were sexy beasts for shoes, they weren’t appropriate for icy conditions.
He was solicitous of her the entire way, ushering her into the back of the sleek black sedan that was already warm and toasty. He hung there a moment, staring into the backseat as he held on to the door.
“Have a safe trip, miss.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He closed the door and the driver pulled down the drive that had already been cleared of snow. She turned in her seat, staring back at the house she hadn’t gotten a good look at the night before.
It was a hulking piece of construction, but it wasn’t as looming or intimidating as she thought it might have appeared. It looked entirely normal. In keeping with the other mansions that dotted this area.
It was, however, extremely private and surrounded by thick woods on all sides. There was no way to tell the total acreage, but she guessed it was a lot. She couldn’t see another house or even the road as they wound their way down the drive.
Yes, it did appear that Cam was Mr. Reclusive as Devon had suggested. Now that she’d had a taste of all that dark, broody passion, it made her wonder just how often Cam ventured out to lure a woman back to his cave.
She nearly laughed. She made it sound like he was the Beast, sulking in his lair while he waited for Beauty. But if anything, Cam was Beauty. The man was sinfully gorgeous and forbiddingly perfect.
And he could make love like a dream. She’d wear and feel the effects of his lovemaking for a week. A sharp tingle snaked down her back, invading her limbs, bringing awareness and arousal all over again.
She gave one last look to the imposing structure as the car turned the final bend of the driveway. Then with a sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Cam stared through the slat in the blinds of his upstairs office as the car bearing Pippa back to the city drove away. For several long seconds, he continued to stare, even when it disappeared from view.
He turned away and stood for a long moment, hands thrust into his pockets. It annoyed and bewildered him that he had no idea what he was going to do next. He experienced a sudden surge of restlessness, an urge to go do something, although what, he had no idea. He only knew that being here, alone, in his too-quiet house was suddenly … unbearable.
He scowled. It was the damn woman. He’d been caught off guard by everything about her. Maybe he’d expected someone more like Ashley. Sweet, shy, innocent, naive, a bit vulnerable, in need of protection. Maybe his ego had been stroked by offering Pippa a night in his bed. Maybe he thought he’d been granting her a favor while indulging in what he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d met her.
Instead, she’d rocked his world. This was a confident, self-assured woman who wasn’t afraid to reach out and take what she wanted, and she’d wanted him. His ego should be assuaged by that. But he found himself disgruntled because … the damn roles had been reversed.
It was almost as if she had been the one to say, Hey, I want you but I don’t want any strings. She’d taken control.
He’d acted like an out-of-control, desperate, raging sex fiend. Nothing like the composed, commanding man he liked to present to the rest of the world.
And that … well, that bothered him. A lot.
Shaking his head, he walked down the hall back to his bedroom. He entered hesitantly, which was stupid given that he’d seen her drive away, but somehow her presence was still firmly imprinted. He could smell her.
His gaze traveled over the rumpled bed linens, the mussed pillows. One of the sheets was barely clinging to the bed. Most of it was on the floor.
He should have taken her to one of the guest rooms. He didn’t bring women to his bedroom. Ever. If he’d actually been thinking the night before, he would have remained downstairs where she wouldn’t have breached the areas private to him at all. But the only prevailing thought he’d had was to get her into bed, however fast he could do it.
Lust was a bitch.
A controlling, fickle mistress from which there was no escape. At least not when it came to Pippa Laingley. Maybe now that he’d had her six ways to Sunday, his blood would cool and he wouldn’t lose his damn mind every time she came within a hundred feet.
His gut told him this was in no way true, but for his peace of mind, he was going with it.
He walked into the bathroom, wincing at the mess facing his cleaning lady. The shower door was still open. Towels had been discarded on the floor. The countertop was a mess thanks to his impatience. He’d swept the surface bare with a quick hand right before lifting Pippa onto the edge so he could have her again.
There were at least two discarded condoms on the floor.
He gingerly leaned down to toss the one by the sink into the nearby trash can and then went for the one on the floor by the shower. He used a tissue to pick it up and started for the trash can when he noticed something that sent panic knifing through his stomach.
He froze, unable to even process the evidence before him. Then a string of obscenities blistered the air. His stomach balled into a knot. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his mouth went completely dry.
He closed his eyes, willing it not to be so, but when he reopened them, he saw irrefutable proof in his shaking hand.
The condom had torn.
