She sidestepped him, grateful when the caressing palm fell away from her neck. ‘I’ll have to sample them another time.’
He gripped her wrist, stopping her in mid-flight. ‘Stay awhile.’
She quelled the hammer of her heartbeat at the unexpected invitation, the pressure of his thumb against her pulse making it hard to stay focused.
She pulled her arm away. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not? Last night was great.’
The blunt question wasn’t one she wanted to answer. Telling him she found him too overwhelming would be like waving a red rag in front of a bull. A very persistent and extremely attractive bull who already had her thighs trembling and he’d barely touched her. So she decided to go with a more straightforward excuse.
‘Actually, it was too great,’ she said, stifling the ridiculous blush. ‘For me, anyway.’
He tilted his head to one side, the quizzical smile making him look even more assured. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘You know.’ She paused. ‘It was too much… physically.’
His lips quirked and she frowned. That hadn’t come out quite the way she’d planned.
He took her wrist again. ‘I see.’ Tugging her towards him, he wrapped an arm around her hips. She felt the prominent arousal and tried to wriggle away, shocked to feel desire welling once again.
‘I don’t think you do.’ She braced her palms against his chest. ‘I have whisker burn!’
He chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, Ruby,’ he murmured, not sounding all that apologetic. ‘Your skin’s so soft.’ He touched a thumb to her cheek, the flicker of tenderness stunning her into silence. ‘I have some cream that’ll help. Would you like me to apply it to the affected areas?’
She shoved him back, annoyingly tempted by the offer. ‘That’s not a good idea. Considering.’
He laughed. ‘No, probably not.’
God, she looked adorable. And so damn desirable. The flush of embarrassment and the fresh scent of his shampoo on the mass of damp curls tumbling over her shoulder tied his gut into knots. Her skin looked radiant without the carefully applied shield of makeup. Radiant and surprisingly young.
It occurred to Cal that he was even more captivated by her this morning than he had been last night. And not just by her beauty.
He’d spent ten minutes lying in bed, listening to the shower and imagining all the things he wanted to do to her today. Most of them involving soap suds. He’d have to put those on hold.
The fact that he’d been so demanding unsettled him a little. He wasn’t normally that insatiable. She’d been as enthusiastic as he had, but he still should have been a lot more careful with her. But that didn’t mean they had to part company right away.
‘Wait there.’ Cal crossed to the cabinets and hunted up the tube of cream he’d slung in there months ago and forgotten about.
Finding it, he handed it to Ruby. ‘It’s supposed to be good for bruises and scraps. It should help with the whisker burn.’
Taking the tube, she read the label. ‘Arnica? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the new-age-remedy type.’
His lips tilted up. Why did he find her bluntness as captivating as the rest of her?
‘I’m not. My sister sent me that in one of her many care packages.’ Leaning back against the unit, he crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying the colour that rose in Ruby’s cheeks as he studied her. Was it his imagination, or was she as captivated as he was? ‘Maddy worries about me,’ he added, trying to look plaintive and failing miserably, he suspected. ‘And my lonely bachelor lifestyle.’
‘Lonely!’ She laughed. ‘I’m guessing your sister doesn’t know you very well.’
He smiled. ‘I try to make sure of that,’ he said easily.
Athough the truth was, he didn’t have to try very hard. His sister was too sweet, too generous and too naive to ever understand that he preferred sex without commitment and had never once yearned for anything more.
‘Well, give your sister my thanks,’ Ruby said, tucking the tube into the pocket of the robe. ‘On second thought, perhaps you better not.’ Her eyes brightened with mischief. ‘Explaining how I came to need it might be a bit awkward.’ She gathered her clothes up from the counter, and nodded towards the door. ‘I should be going. Thanks for last night. It was fun, despite the whisker burns.’
Forcing down the urge to chase after her, he stood motionless and relaxed as she headed towards the door. He should probably let her leave. But as she twisted the handle on the bathroom door he knew he wasn’t going to.
She seemed oddly vulnerable this morning—which was something he hadn’t expected. He was by nature a cynical man, the perfect storm of his childhood had seen to that. When you factored in the intellect that had allowed him to pass the bar two years early and take silk at the age of thirty-four—the youngest person at the time to be awarded the lofty position of Queen’s Counsel in the history of British law—he was very rarely surprised by anything. Or anyone. Especially women.