After the Christmas Party(9)

Cool amusement at her lack of ability to say the actual words shone in his eyes. “We didn’t have sexual intercourse last night, if that’s what you are attempting to ask.”

No sexual intercourse. His tone mocked her question but, come on, they were in bed and she was only in her skivvies. Which meant that they had done something, right? The way he was looking at her said they’d done something. But what?

Letting her gaze run over his face, his lips, the strong line of his jaw, his throat, his bare shoulders, his chest, his…She gulped. Had she touched him? Kissed him? Run her fingers over those broad shoulders? Those washboard abs? Had she seen him naked? Face afire, she glanced back up, met his gaze, and winced. He so knew what she was thinking and he liked it.

An inferno burned her cheeks.

“Riley, I…” She pulled the covers even tighter around her, holding on in case the material got a sudden urge to slip below her neck and put her chest and abs on display for his inspection. No washboard anywhere in sight at her midsection. More like a laundry basket. Taking a deep breath, she tried to pull her thoughts together and away from their bodies. “I don’t do this.”

“This?” His face was unreadable, his eyes dark. She didn’t like the look and found herself wishing things were different. That she was different. That she could have woken up in bed with him and not freaked out but reveled in a night full of passion. That she really had woken up with a smile. That she could have been good enough that he could have woken up with a smile. That instead of lashing out at him with accusatory questions she could have teased him awake with kisses and had a morning full of passion.

A morning she’d remember always.

A morning he’d always remember.

A morning that would leave them both exhausted and smiling.

But that wasn’t her. She was a woman who disliked Christmas, disliked men, was terrible at sex, and although she’d come to Pensacola to forget her past, she could only handle confronting one hang-up at a time. She seriously had her work cut out for her even with that.

“What is it that you don’t do?” Riley prompted when she failed to elaborate.

Everything. She sighed, took a deep breath and went for broke.

“Wake up in bed with a man and not remember how I got here and what we did while here.” She grimaced. She sounded horrible. Waking up next to him was horrible. He probably thought she was horrible—in bed and out of it. “I don’t do that. Ever.”

“I just told you, we didn’t do anything, not really. We ended up here because I drove you home from the Christmas party and you invited me in. And, although there’s another bedroom, there is no bed.”

Which meant he must have at least considered sleeping elsewhere.

“I wasn’t doing the floor,” he said matter-of-factly, “and I’m too tall to comfortably sleep on your girly sofa.”

She did have a girly sofa. A plush Victorian piece that she loved because it had been the first piece of furniture she’d ever bought for herself, but it really wasn’t that comfy. Not that comfort mattered so much, because she never had company or spent much time there.

Trying to recall the previous night’s events, she closed her eyes, thought back. The Christmas party. She’d danced with Riley, sung one silly reindeer song with him, celebrated that he’d won one of the door prizes when random names had been drawn from a stocking, then they’d left. He’d driven her home. They’d walked into her house and then he’d kissed her. No mistletoe required. Just a simple good-night kiss that had somehow morphed into something more, something hotter, something that hadn’t been simple at all.

Wow, if his kiss had been that amazing she might have really woken up with a smile had they had sex. Then again, had they had sex he’d know how lame her lovemaking actually was.

Her panties weren’t the only thing she was wearing.

She reached up, touched the door prize he’d won and given to her. “You won this.”

He shrugged, causing the covers to slip a little lower at his waist. “I gave it to you.”

He’d taken the pearl necklace out of the velvet box and fastened it around her neck. There had been something mesmerizing about him putting the necklace on her. Something erotic and gentle and totally captivating.

Kind of like his abs.

No wonder she’d asked him to stay. He’d been the perfect date.

Only they hadn’t been on a date.

“You can have it back if you want it,” she offered, in case he regretted having given her the piece. Maybe he’d expected bodily payment for the beads. Ha, had they been out of a gumball machine he might have gotten his money’s worth, but that’s about it if Chase’s claims about her skills could be believed.