and thanked him twice. What the hell?
* * *
Tiffany was still trembling when she slid between her sheets, both angry with herself and relieved. Maybe she should have stayed with him. Maybe this was her chance to get over her scars so she could pursue a relationship with another man in the future.
But she didn’t want anyone else, and she didn’t have the courage to expose herself to Ryzard.
With a moan of despair, she rolled onto her stomach and groaned into a pillow.
A muted bell sounded. She lifted her head and noticed a light flashing on the bedside phone. Picking it up, she said a wary, “Yes?”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
His voice sent a race of erotic excitement through her veins and into her loins. “In my room, obviously,” she said, unable to control the husky edge on her voice.
“In bed?”
“Sleeping, yes,” she lied.
“Liar.”
Sherolled her eyes. So arrogant.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
“Flannel jammies and a nightcap.”
“Well, take them off, draga. I’m about to tell you what you missed by running out of here.”
“You’re going to force me to have phone sex?”
“Hang up any time.”
“I might have enough without adding more,” she murmured in a considering tone.
“Hmm? Oh. Clever,” he said with dry amusement. “I never know what to expect from you, Tiffany. Although I’m quite sure you’re still aroused. Have you been thinking of how you nearly killed me tonight?”
“Did I?” She couldn’t help smiling.
“So smug. Yes, you did. I didn’t thank you, and I should have. You’re a delightful lover.”
She curled on her side so the phone was tucked under her ear. “Thank you for saying that.”
“Are you naked yet? Because if my hands will not be stroking your gorgeous body, then I will listen as you do it.”
“You wish.” But she tingled at the thought. He was right about sexual excitement hovering under the surface. Her skin prickled to sharp life, making her feel sensual and deeply aware of all her erogenous zones.
“Satisfy my curiosity,” he said in a low voice. “Are your nipples still hard?”
“It’s dark, I can’t see.”
“Feel them.”
She closed her eyes, tempted, but, “Ryzard, I meant it when I said we should leave it at tonight.”
Silence.
Had he hung up on her?
“Are you still there?” she asked, hearing a forlorn note in her voice.
“At least tell me why you’re cutting me off.” Underlying the brisk frustration in his tone was an edge of something she’d heard this evening when he’d said, It shows I belong. She’d hurt him.
Through an aching throat, she managed to blurt out the worst cliché around. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m the biggest head case going.”
“You’re concerned that I will be repulsed by these scars of yours.”
“Yes,” she admitted, breathing a little easier at his understanding.
“Why would that bother you if I was?”
“I— What?” Her whole body tensed. Did she disgust him?
“Why would you care about my opinion? Who am I to you? Just some stranger you slept with on a wild night, right?”
So many protests choked her, she couldn’t speak. He wasn’t just anyone, not after some of the conversations they’d had and the physical intimacies they’d shared, but she couldn’t admit that to him. He was already way too close to sensing he meant more to her than their brief association should warrant. His opinion mattered a lot.
“You’re expecting me to get naked, be as exposed as I possibly could be, and risk being rejected,” she said in a strained voice. “Wouldn’t that bother you?”
“It bothered the hell out of me when you walked out tonight. I was as naked as a man needs to be the first night.” His anger blistered off the receiver, making her squinch her face in a cringe. “You’ve done it to me twice.”
“I’m sorry.” The words burned from all the way in the pit of her sick stomach. “I didn’t look at it from your perspective.
* * *
Tiffany was still trembling when she slid between her sheets, both angry with herself and relieved. Maybe she should have stayed with him. Maybe this was her chance to get over her scars so she could pursue a relationship with another man in the future.
But she didn’t want anyone else, and she didn’t have the courage to expose herself to Ryzard.
With a moan of despair, she rolled onto her stomach and groaned into a pillow.
A muted bell sounded. She lifted her head and noticed a light flashing on the bedside phone. Picking it up, she said a wary, “Yes?”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
His voice sent a race of erotic excitement through her veins and into her loins. “In my room, obviously,” she said, unable to control the husky edge on her voice.
“In bed?”
“Sleeping, yes,” she lied.
“Liar.”
Sherolled her eyes. So arrogant.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
“Flannel jammies and a nightcap.”
“Well, take them off, draga. I’m about to tell you what you missed by running out of here.”
“You’re going to force me to have phone sex?”
“Hang up any time.”
“I might have enough without adding more,” she murmured in a considering tone.
“Hmm? Oh. Clever,” he said with dry amusement. “I never know what to expect from you, Tiffany. Although I’m quite sure you’re still aroused. Have you been thinking of how you nearly killed me tonight?”
“Did I?” She couldn’t help smiling.
“So smug. Yes, you did. I didn’t thank you, and I should have. You’re a delightful lover.”
She curled on her side so the phone was tucked under her ear. “Thank you for saying that.”
“Are you naked yet? Because if my hands will not be stroking your gorgeous body, then I will listen as you do it.”
“You wish.” But she tingled at the thought. He was right about sexual excitement hovering under the surface. Her skin prickled to sharp life, making her feel sensual and deeply aware of all her erogenous zones.
“Satisfy my curiosity,” he said in a low voice. “Are your nipples still hard?”
“It’s dark, I can’t see.”
“Feel them.”
She closed her eyes, tempted, but, “Ryzard, I meant it when I said we should leave it at tonight.”
Silence.
Had he hung up on her?
“Are you still there?” she asked, hearing a forlorn note in her voice.
“At least tell me why you’re cutting me off.” Underlying the brisk frustration in his tone was an edge of something she’d heard this evening when he’d said, It shows I belong. She’d hurt him.
Through an aching throat, she managed to blurt out the worst cliché around. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m the biggest head case going.”
“You’re concerned that I will be repulsed by these scars of yours.”
“Yes,” she admitted, breathing a little easier at his understanding.
“Why would that bother you if I was?”
“I— What?” Her whole body tensed. Did she disgust him?
“Why would you care about my opinion? Who am I to you? Just some stranger you slept with on a wild night, right?”
So many protests choked her, she couldn’t speak. He wasn’t just anyone, not after some of the conversations they’d had and the physical intimacies they’d shared, but she couldn’t admit that to him. He was already way too close to sensing he meant more to her than their brief association should warrant. His opinion mattered a lot.
“You’re expecting me to get naked, be as exposed as I possibly could be, and risk being rejected,” she said in a strained voice. “Wouldn’t that bother you?”
“It bothered the hell out of me when you walked out tonight. I was as naked as a man needs to be the first night.” His anger blistered off the receiver, making her squinch her face in a cringe. “You’ve done it to me twice.”
“I’m sorry.” The words burned from all the way in the pit of her sick stomach. “I didn’t look at it from your perspective.
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