“My poor starved ego,” he murmured. “If it helps,Iwant to tell you that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
She grinned, wriggling a little beneath him, enjoying the fact he was still embedded deep inside her. “In that case, that was incredible and amazing.”
His expression grew melodramatically smug. “Of course it was. I don’t do anything any other way.”
Laughing, she shoved at his chest.
“Wait, wait.” He laughed in return. “Don’t want to leave…” Twisting a little on her, he looked down between them to where their bodies joined. After a quick readjustment of hands and weight, he withdrew from her and climbed off the bed.
A sense of no longer being complete washed through her for a heartbeat, and she bit her bottom lip, watching him hurry into the bathroom. Stretching out on the bed, she stared at the ceiling and listened to him deal with the used condom and go through the post-sex wash.
It was insane how much she missed his weight of his body on hers—inhers. Would it be rude of her to ask him not to go back to the wedding reception? To ask him if they could stay here, in his cabin, for the rest of the night?
What about Bria? And Elisa? What about Mandla? How will he survive if you don’t go home ASAP?
Go home. Yes, she needed to stop being silly and selfish, and get back to San Diego as soon as possible.
A tight knot twisted in her chest. The cheetah kittens needed her, but if she left, she’d likely not see Mick for a long time.
And? That shouldn’t be a problem, right? This was only an itch scratched. A one-wedding stand.
The mattress dipped a little, and she repositioned herself on the bed. Rolling onto her side to rest her head in her hand, she studied Mick where he sat on the end of the bed.
Smoothing his palm along the back of her calf, he looked at her, his expression unreadable.
“You want to say something,” she noted.
Ask me to stay the night. Ask me to stay the weekend.
A slight frown pulled at his eyebrows, and he let out a soft snort. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
She laughed. “Oh, I suck at poker.”
“I’m brilliant at poker,” he said. “But you seem to have a knack for reading me.”
Her stomach clenched. Why did she like knowing that? Why did she like he’d confessed it to her?
Because you really do like him. And you like being with him.
“What do you want to say?” she asked, ignoring the lump in her throat and the knot in her stomach.
His hand grew still, his fingers loosely cupping the back of her calf. “Why were you upset when I found you on the beach? I know it’s none of my business, but if there’s anything I can do to help…”
The question took her by surprise. Or maybe it was her reaction to it…that sense of wanting to tell him. Wanting him to share in her worry for moment, the absolute conviction he’d make her feel better somehow if she did.
Oh no.She swallowed, and a prickling heat crawled over her scalp.Don’t fall for him, Zeta. Don’t fall in love with him. Don’t.
“Mandla, one of my newly born cheetah kittens, isn’t doing well,” she said. “He’s not thriving. And Noxolo, his mom, seems to be rejecting him for some reason. I think I need to go home ASA—”
Someone thudded on the cabin’s door.
Loud. Insistent.
“Oi,” a muffled male voice shouted outside. “Mick? Mick, you in there?”
Zeta flinched. Mick frowned, shoving himself from the bed. “What the…” He scanned the room, snagged up a pair of colorful boardshorts slung over the chair in the corner, and yanked them on. “Who the hell…”
He stormed from the room, muttering.