Stranded by Noelle Stevens Page B

against my ear.
    Why is he so eager to see me go? Of course. I was only a pleasant diversion for him on a snowy weekend. “Okay.” What else can I say? He clearly has no interest in anything beyond what we’ve done. He conquered me. He can add a notch to his bedpost. And now he’s done with me.
    A sick feeling grows within me and I wish I’d spent the previous twelve hours in the bed he let me borrow—alone. Not in his bed, where I’ve surrendered not only my body, but also my heart.
    He slides out of bed, and my gaze sweeps over his naked body. The body that I still crave, but know I will never see again after this day. I hear the shower turn on, and a few minutes later he walks out in a pair of jeans, his chest bare, and his hair damp.
    I am still naked in his bed, the sheet covering me against the morning chill, and I am reluctant to get out of bed and end the fantasy that has taken hold of me. The fantasy that says Drake is mine, that he wants me, that he might even love me.
    “You should shower,” he says, ending my fantasy with completeness.
    I throw back the covers, revealing my body, and his eyes hungrily rove over my curves. I like the way he looks at me, and hope he’ll relent on his demand that I rise.
    His gaze goes to my face. “We need to get going.”
    Why is he in such a hurry? Yes, the storm has stopped, but it’s Sunday, still the weekend. Why is he so eager for me to leave? But I know why. He has gotten what he was after, and now he is ready to move on.
    I slide off the bed, then pick up my panties from the floor and trudge out of his bedroom and down the hall to mine. After tossing my panties onto the chair, I sink onto the bedspread and put my head in my hands. Stupid girl , I berate myself. Stupid, stupid girl . Why am I so weak? I shake my head, disgusted with myself for letting my body’s desires get the best of me, when I knew it would be a mistake.
    Sighing, I rise, knowing there is nothing I can do about it now. The mistake has been made and life must go on. I drag myself to the shower and let the hot needles pound against my skin, washing away the lovemaking that I now wish I could forget. I scrub my skin raw, then dry off and dress, putting on the panties that are now stiff with the remnant of my need. They are uncomfortable, but I wear them anyway, to remind myself of my stupidity, then I walk downstairs. 
    The lovely aroma of bacon drifts to me from the kitchen, and I go there to face Drake. He stands at the stove, scrambling eggs, and when I enter the kitchen he turns to me with a smile. “I’ll bet you’re ready to get back on the road.”
    Why does he think that? I shrug in reply.
    “My Internet is back up,” he says. “I called the tow truck company. They’ll be in the vicinity of your car in an hour.”
    I push a smile onto my lips. “Good.”
    He nods, then places the cooked eggs into a dish and carries it, along with a plate of bacon, to the table. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
    My appetite is gone, as often happens when I’m stressed or upset, but I take a small serving of eggs, and one slice of bacon. No reason to let Drake know how devastated I am that I’m leaving. He’s eager to see me go, and I refuse to let him know that he’s begun to mean much more to me than a one-night stand.
    He eats with gusto, while I barely manage to eat the small amount I’ve put on my plate, but I force myself to pretend that all is well.
    After we finish eating, I offer to clean up, and he leaves me alone in the kitchen. I wash the dishes, then scrub the counter, trying to delay the inevitable.
    “Ready?” he says as he walks into the kitchen.
    “Yeah, sure.” I follow him as he walks back into the living room. My coat is laid neatly over the back of the couch, and he picks it up and holds it out for me to put on. I slip my arms into the sleeves, then wrap it around me like a shroud. I pull my boots on over my socks, grateful that my ankle seems to be