Good Girl Gone Plaid(41)
“Yes, it is.”
She stared at him. “No. It isn’t.”
Shite, what wasn’t he remembering? Ian scavenged his memory, trying to remember. Something pricked at the shadows of his mind.
Her expression turned skeptical. “Wait, you really don’t remember?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Never mind.” She shook her head and scooted into sitting position. “It was a long time ago and totally irrelevant.”
It clicked. “The morning after prom, right?”
“Right.” She crossed the room, heading straight to the bathroom now.
He followed her. “We woke up, went at it, and then realized we’d forgot.”
“Bingo. See there? Not always so on the protection ball.”
“Yes, well you’re the only one. And really, twice in fifteen years isn’t all that bad of a record.”
“Fifteen years?” She paused at the bathroom door and turned to look at him. “You lost your virginity at fourteen?”
“Aye.” He grinned. “A going away from Scotland present from my neighbor, Mrs. Robinson.”
Sarah snorted. “How original. I suppose she was an older woman?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“She was divorced. Quite lovely and with jugs—”
“Don’t need to hear it. Thanks.” She waved a hand in his face and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Are you showering?”
“Yes.” She paused and pulled the door open enough to stick her head out again. Her eyes were narrowed, but there was amusement in them. “Did you want to join me?”
Aye. Hell yeah, he did. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”
He slipped into the bathroom with her, already semi-hard again at the thought of taking her in the shower.
One thing was certain. If Sarah had any regrets about tonight, she had a funny way of showing it.
Chapter Eleven
Five days. She’d lasted five days on the island before falling back into bed with Ian McLaughlin.
Sarah lay still in bed, staring at the ceiling and the hint of daylight that trickled in through the blinds.
Beside her Ian still slept, his soft snores not bothering her in the least. Now, his blatant nudity and the leg thrown across hers was another story.
Why hadn’t she thrown on a T-shirt before falling asleep? Some type of article of clothing that would put a barrier between them. It was a potent reminder of what had happened. Twice last night.
But did she regret it? The question had looped in her head as she’d fallen asleep, and then again when she’d opened her eyes.
The answer wasn’t quite clear. She’d enjoyed the sex too much to regret it. But the underlying fear of what she was risking put a damper on what had happened.
And what if it were about more than just sex? The idea had flitted through her head more than once, but she refused to dwell on the possibility too long. It couldn’t be more.
She tried to roll to her side a little so she could look at him.
He was so close to her, his body turned toward hers. In his sleep Ian appeared completely at peace. His brows, which were often drawn together in a scowl, were completely relaxed. His lips were parted as he breathed slow and steadily.
As if sensing her perusal, or maybe her movement, he reached out for her. Of course his hand landed on a breast and her breath caught on a choked gasp.
For a moment he stayed asleep, his hand just resting there. But she knew the moment he woke up enough to realize what he was grasping.
His fingers, initially immobile, began to trace her flesh. To cup her breast, and then knead.
She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip. They weren’t going to go another round, were they? Surely he was burnt out by now. She was.
He caught her nipple between his fingers and pinched slightly. While the tip tightened under his touch, warmth flooded her body and moisture gathered between her legs.
Oh well, she’d thought she was burnt out.
“Still a morning person, huh?” he murmured and gave a low, raspy laugh that just screamed sleepy male and sex.
“Most of the time.” Oh why did her voice have to crack? Did she have to sound all breathy?
He squeezed her breast again and then leaned over to place a kiss on the nipple.
Her lashes fluttered up and she found his gaze on her face.
“Hi.” He leaned down to kiss her lips.
When he lifted his head, she repeated a soft, “Hi.”
The hand that held her breast slid downward, tracing circles over her stomach. Already butterflies were having a rave inside there, but when he traced fingers even lower, she couldn’t stop a low moan.
“Sarah.” Her name was almost a sigh on his lips. His gaze darkened and searched hers. “Last night was…”