But for some reason she’d thought Rick was different. How stupid of her. He was just like the others. Get off and get out of there before the woman wants to talk.
It wasn’t like she was going to rehash the sex from the night before.
She stretched, raised her arms above her head and pointed her toes, smiling at the soreness in her muscles. No, she was pretty certain the sex spoke for itself and needed no further conversation.
But Rick didn’t know that, and he was probably used to clingy women who thought one night of sex equaled a relationship.
She wasn’t that kind of woman. She knew where they stood—nowhere. He was a biker who traveled all over, was part of a gang. She was a graduate student trying to decide which college to attend for her Ph.D. She was nowhere near looking for a relationship, and she doubted he was, either.
But if she was . . . oh, wow, it had been incredible last night. Rick knew his way around her body without instruction or a road map. He’d done it entirely by feel and by reading her responses.
He was really damn good at it.
Her body swelled with heat remembering his touch, his kisses, how he felt inside her. She slid her hand inside her sweatpants and cupped her sex, let her fingers dance around her clit, recalling how his mouth and tongue felt there last night. What an incredible orgasm he’d brought her to.
When she heard a click in the door lock, she removed her hands from her pants and slid her feet over the side of the bed. Rick pushed the door open. He had two cups of coffee in a cardboard container.
“Oh, hey, you’re up.”
Ava couldn’t resist a wide smile. He hadn’t left her. He’d gone for coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, suddenly feeling giddy, and then felt stupid for feeling that way. It was just coffee.
But he hadn’t run like hell to escape.
“I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep, but I hate in-room coffee, so thought you’d want the good stuff.”
“You’re right. Thank you.”
He handed her a cup and cream and sugar. “I wasn’t sure how you took it.”
“With cream and sugar.” She added both, then put the lid back on, slid back against the pillows, and took a sip of the hot brew. “Oh, this is really good.”
Rick shrugged his jacket off and lifted the lid off his cup, took a swallow and sat in the chair across from the bed. “Sleep well?”
“What little sleep I got was fine. You were gone when I got up. I thought maybe you wanted to avoid seeing me.”
Why had she blurted that out? She sounded needy.
Way to be mature, Ava.
He quirked a brow and propped his feet up on the edge of the bed. “Why would I want to do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Avoid the morning after?”
“The morning aft—oh.” He laughed, then pinned her with a direct stare. “I’m not the type to f**k and run, Ava.”
She liked hearing that. She didn’t know why she cared, dammit, but she did.
“You must have dated some miserable ass**les.”
She lifted her gaze from her coffee to him. “Not really. Just none that were memorable enough to keep around.”
“Yeah? Tell me about them.”
She shifted and made herself more comfortable against the pillows. “My first was in college.”
“Late bloomer, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that. My parents overprotected me, kept me busy with school and social activities.”
He grinned. “All to preserve the sanctity of your virginity, no doubt.”
She sipped her coffee and nodded, remembering having to account for every second of her time back then. “No doubt. But once I hit college and wasn’t under their thumb every minute of every day, I had more freedom to go wild.”
“And did you?”
“Go wild?” She let out a soft laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know how. I was tentative. I’d been sheltered. Having all that freedom scared the hell out of me.”
“And you had guys beating down the door to get at you, I’d bet.”
She laughed. “Not really. I was painfully shy. Pretty much a wallflower.”
“I can’t see that.”
“Thanks. But I was. Fortunately, I had my best friend, Lacey, as my roommate and we stuck close together and weathered the first couple awkward years of college. And boys. And then men.”
“So your sexual awakening was in college, with the frat boys?”
“Yes.”
“Did they treat you good?”
What an odd question. Why would he even care about that? “I suppose. I wasn’t mistreated. I didn’t end up on a website or in a Girls Gone Wild video. But then again I was never a big drinker, so I always knew what I was doing. And I was selective in who I went out with.”
“Sounds practical.”
He made it sound like she was boring. Maybe she had been. She certainly couldn’t pinpoint anyone or anything remarkable from her undergrad days.
“So how many?”
“How many what?”
“How many guys?”
She lifted her chin. “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”
“Okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Four.”
“That’s it? Four? You’ve only been with four guys? How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
Rick dragged his fingers through his hair. “Damn.”
“How about you?”
“Uh . . .”
“That many, huh?” And why did it irritate her so much that he couldn’t just pull a number out of his head right then? “Go ahead. Give it some thought. I’ll wait.”
And she did. Drank her coffee, twiddled her toes, glanced over at the clock, then back at him while he stared up at the ceiling and did mental math.
“Are you kidding me? It’s that hard to count a few sex partners?”
“Uh . . .”
Oh, for God’s sake. “Never mind.”
“Thirty-three.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Are you serious? Thirty-three?”
“Give or take.”
“Jesus. Am I thirty-four, or thirty-three?”
His lips curled. “I didn’t count you.”
“Why the hell not? Because you only counted the memorable ones?” Which meant she’d been utterly forgettable. Great. Just great.