She looked at Draco, sprawled back against the pillows in a matching hotel robe, his dark-as-midnight hair still damp, his skin tanned and golden against the white linens.
Was this what came of letting your lover spend the entire night in your bed?
Actually, he wasn’t her lover. They had no relationship apart from what had happened last night and this morning.
What she’d let happen.
Okay. So she’d broken a rule. Let him spend the night. Well, no. She’d broken two rules. She shouldn’t have had sex with him in the first place. This was no different than being in a courtroom.
Would she sleep with the prosecutor? And hadn’t she had the discussion with herself already? She had. Then how had this happened? How had she let this man make her forget such basic principles?
“A penny,” Draco said in that low, husky voice of his. Anna raised her eyebrows and played dumb. He smiled. “For your thoughts.”
He had an amazing smile.
Tender. Sexy. Masculine. She felt its effects straight down to her toes. Even looking at him looking at her made her feel … well, it made her feel strange.
As if she’d lost her equilibrium. Or something.
It was unsettling. She didn’t like it. Or maybe she liked it too much, and what in heck was that supposed to mean?
“Anna?” He put his coffee cup on the nightstand and sat up straight. “What is it?”
Anna cleared her throat.
“Nothing. I mean—I mean, I was just thinking …. Perhaps this would be a good time to agree on what happens next.”
He grinned. It made her pulse stutter.
“An excellent suggestion, cara.” He took her cup from her hands and set it beside his. His fingers brushed hers. She fought the sudden urge to fling herself into his arms.
What in the world is wrong with you, Orsini? Are you losing your mind?
“I suspect we can think of something,” he said.
“No.” Her voice was breathy, the kind of old-fashioned I’m-just-a-girl-and-you’re-such-a-sexy-stud thing she despised in women. “No,” she said, briskly this time, and drew back her hand. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
His eyes focused on hers. “What way did you mean it?”
Anna wished she were not wearing a robe, not sitting on a bed rumpled from a night of sex, not facing a man who looked as if he had just stepped out of GQ.
“I meant … well, I was thinking that—that I hope you understand, this was, uh, it was fine.”
His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits.
“Fine?” he said softly, and Anna winced
.
“It was great.”
“Great,” he said even more softly.
She was digging herself into a hole. She took a breath, forced what she hoped was a brilliant smile.
“You know what I mean. It was—it was—”
“What was, Anna? Breakfast? The coffee?” A muscle knotted in his jaw. “Or are you speaking of what happened between us in this bed?”