“No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
And he was laughing. Asshole. She put down her coffee and stood. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out.”
“You’re serious.”
She pointed to the door. “Get. Out.”
“You are serious.” He stood. “You’re really going to toss me out of here because of the number of women I’ve had sex with.”
Men were so clueless sometimes. “I need to take a shower. And I need some time alone.”
“I could wash your back.” He lifted his brows.
“Oh,” she muttered a sound of disgust. “Just get out, Rick.”
“Okay. Jesus. Sorry.” He went to the door, turned, and looked at her. “Call me when you’re over being grumpy.”
She slammed the door in his face, double locked it, and flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.
Her heart was pounding and her face was hot, flushed with the heat of anger and embarrassment.
Thirty-three. What a man whore. Damn good thing he’d worn a condom, since his c**k had been so well used before he’d been with her.
But as the minutes ticked by and she continued to gaze up at the monotonous white ceiling, she didn’t know what she was more upset about—that Rick had had so much sex, or she’d had so little.
Maybe it was the combination of Rick’s experience and what she’d seen with Lacey last night. It seemed like everyone was so adept at broadening their horizons—except her.
Though she’d certainly gotten a good start last night with Rick, as well as the night before. Phone sex, and a night of awesome in-person sex. She couldn’t recall ever climaxing like she had with Rick. He brought out a wild, uninhibited side to her she never knew existed, and she had a feeling they’d only scratched the surface of what she was capable of—what they were capable of doing together.
So what the hell was she doing throwing a tantrum and tossing him out of her room, when instead she could be tapping into his wealth of experience while she had the chance?
Dumbass.
If she’d spent less time holed up with books and more time with men, she’d have known how to handle this—how to handle him. Instead, she’d acted like a fourteen-year-old with a bruised ego when, really, his prior sex partners had nothing to do with her—with them.
She jumped up and took a shower, dried her hair, and got dressed, then grabbed her jacket and bag and marched down to Rick’s room, raised her hand, then paused before knocking, feeling every bit of two inches tall for her ridiculous outburst earlier.
She knocked, her pulse pounding, not sure what she was going to say when he opened the door.
If he was even still in there.
He pulled open the door and her breath caught.
He was wearing jeans, unbuttoned. No shirt. Bare feet. His hair was still wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower and pulled on the jeans to answer the door.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. I was just getting out of the shower. Come on in.”
She did. He closed the door and she stepped into his room.
He was a typical guy—clothes tossed everywhere. She resisted the urge to straighten up.
“Sorry. I just toss shit around. Let me move that.”
“It’s fine.” She moved his discarded shirt so she could sit in the chair.
“You want some coffee? I brewed the in-room stuff. It tastes rank, but it’s better than nothing.”
“No. Thank you.”
“Okay.” He turned around and reached into his bag to grab a white T-shirt and lifted his arms to put it on. While his back was turned, Ava had an unrestricted view of the way his muscles stretched across his back and shoulders.
So much she hadn’t seen last night, hadn’t touched. He had a few scars, too, white lines that stood out against his darkly tanned torso. She itched to run her fingers, her tongue, across those scars, and ask how and where he’d gotten them.
Too personal, too intimate. She didn’t want to know. She’d already told him too much about herself and look where that conversation had led. It was best to keep things impersonal between them. What they had wasn’t going anywhere beyond this week, anyway.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I behaved badly and I had no reason.”
He turned around and smiled at her. “It’s not your fault, darlin’. I was a dick.”
“No you weren’t.”
He squatted down in front of her and laid his hands on her knees. “Yeah, I was. I was teasing you and you hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it. Much.” She looked down.
He tipped her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You hated it. I’m sorry.”
He spread her knees apart and moved between her thighs, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. It was soft, the touch of his lips so light she could barely feel it. And because of that, she held her breath, absorbed the utter sweetness of his apology. For a man who looked and acted so hard, the lightness of this kiss rocked her.
When he pulled back, she felt shaken, disoriented, like she was drugged.
“Thank you,” she managed.
He swept his hand along her hair. “For what?”
“I don’t know. I just like being with you. You do something to me, Rick. I can’t explain it.”
His hand stilled and she studied the expression on his face. She’d almost call it shock or surprise, but she certainly hadn’t said anything shockworthy.
“You hungry?”
She nodded. “Starving.”
He pushed off the arms of the chair and stood. “Me, too. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Rick ate his breakfast, inhaled a few more cups of coffee, and pondered what Ava had said earlier.
She’d surprised him, and women generally didn’t. That alone made her unique.
He’d felt bad for teasing her, because he could tell he’d hurt her feelings.
She was way more innocent than he’d originally thought, which only made this assignment more confusing.
What was a woman who had a total of four sex partners—and he figured he was probably included in those four—doing with a gang like the Hellraisers? It made no sense. She wasn’t worldly or streetwise. She was sheltered. She’d said so herself. After being all but monitored 24/7 by her parents, she’d gone off to college and . . . studied. She hadn’t partied her ass off and f**ked one guy after another. She’d gone to college and gotten an education. And then a master’s degree after that.