“Really?”
He licks his lips, a rare sign of uncertainty in this cool and controlled man. “Yes.”
My heart starts to hammer, but he looks away, his face closing down, and I sigh, aware that the moment or whatever it was is lost. “Well, I don’t suppose I can blame you,” I say lightly. “I am very extra.”
“That is certainly one word for it. Trying is another.”
I snort, and he eyes me. It’s very intimate, lying on our sides, heads on our pillows, watching each other. I snuggle a littlecloser, stopping when his eyes flare a warning. I immediately snuggle down in the sheets, giving him an innocent smile.
“What’s the matter, Wes?”
His quiet question makes me blink. “Pardon?”
“You’re troubled today.”
“Am I?”
That bloody eyebrow rises again. “I am not a stupid man. I can read body language as well as the next person.”
“What is my body saying now?”
“That you are dying to move. You’re more fidgety than a hamster on his wheel.”
“Charming.”
“So?”
I stare into his eyes. I want to confide in him so badly, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t. It’s not just because of Julian’s rules, although undoubtedly he’d type this one in bold and underline it a hundred times. It’s more that I feel like I want to get to know Cormac, and that’s something that will never happen. I’d be setting up a world of problems, so keeping everything in nice, safe compartments is best.
“Family stuff,” I finally say shortly. He nods but doesn’t reply. I grimace. “Is it okay that I don’t tell you?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. Whatever gave you the idea that you had to?”
“Well, you do sort of own me.”
He puts a hand up in protest. “Good god, Idon’t. What a truly horrendous thought. I’d be addicted to Valium within the month.”
“Still, you pay a lot of money for me.”
“I pay a lot of money for an afternoon with you. Not a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “I’m not a hypocrite. I wouldn’t thank you for sticking your very long nose into my business either.”
I touch the length of my nose. “It’s not that long.”
“Any longer and you’d be asked to join an elephant pack.”
It’s delivered deadpan, but his eyes twinkle, and I shove him. “Shut up.” My fingers linger on his hard torso, and I trace downward, feeling the silky skin and the muscles underneath. When I get to the edge of the scar, his hand comes out and catches mine.
My heart stutters as he looks down at my hand, his fingers splaying over my palm, tracing the lines. I shudder at the featherlike touch, and he immediately looks up, the spell broken.
Curling my fingers over my palm, he gently places my hand on my belly. “You’re entitled to your own thoughts as much as I am, Wes. I have no rights or dominion over your brain.”
“Just my body?”
He shrugs. “For now.”
I push my instinctive protest away. Then my stomach rumbles, and it’s so loud in the quiet room that I can feel my cheeks blush.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
