“You mean you left her but kept sleeping with her? That’s nice.”
“No. Just once or twice.” He cringed. “It was a mistake.”
“The break up must have screwed you up pretty bad,” she murmured.
“Why do you say that?”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her gaze to the carpet.
“What?”
“Just… the night we met. I kind of got the feeling you’d had something happen. Something worse than you’re making this sound.”
The horrifying truth was at the back of his mind, but strangely, it was still too raw. He still couldn’t process all the factors that had led to the breakdown of his marriage.
“It wasn’t a good time,” he said with a shake of his head. “But that’s old news.” He angled his body so he could see more of her and his eyes roved her face, slowly, thoughtfully, and in a way that turned her insides to mush. “I’d rather talk about you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Why do I feel like I know you but I hardly know anything about you?”
The compliment caused her pulse to skip for it so perfectly imitated how she felt. “I don’t know.” Such a calm, prim response when her nerve endings were leaping about in her body.
“I want to know about you,” he said, the words a deep growl. And then, he surprised her, by leaning over and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
A kiss that was an inhalation.
A taste.
A promise.
“Like what?” The words were juddery as she sucked in a breath, stifling a moan.
He lifted a hand to her shirt and curled his fingers in the fabric at the waist, pushing it up just enough to allow him to stroke her naked stomach.
“Like what’s your history? You know I’ve been married to Cruella De Ville…”
“Cruella,” she interrupted thoughtfully, angling her lips towards his, leaning forward a little. “There’s a name idea.”
He kissed a laugh into her mouth and she reached up, tangling her fingers in his clothes, arching her back and pulling him down on top of her. She fell back onto the carpet, her whole body energized by the perfection of the moment. And it was perfection.
He straddled her, both hands pushing under her shirt now. His fingers were cold against her warm skin and tiny little goose bumps lifted across her body, though from the temperature difference or desire, Imogen couldn’t have said.
He pushed the shirt up higher, sitting so that he could see her as he freed it over her arms. His fingers dragged across her flesh and she bit down on her lip, letting the deluge of awareness crash through her. He dropped his lips to hers, gently, and for the briefest moment, and then he kissed lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, her chin, lower still to the fine flesh of her décolletage.
“You told me you’d been with two men before me…”
“Did I?” She frowned, not remembering that conversation at all.
“Yeah. When I thought maybe the baby might not be mine.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” She pushed up on her elbows, chasing his
lips. “Such a jerk thing to say.”
“Yes, yes, it was.” He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and she groaned, need spiking through her. What were they doing? “Were they serious?”
Imogen shook her head. In that moment, even with a gun to her head, she wasn’t sure she could have recalled their names. There was only Theo.