Baddest Bad Boys(30)

She lifted her hands in helpless confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be pleased. I thought guys liked—”

“Of course guys like it,” he snarled.

“So why are you angry?”

Good question, and he didn’t have an answer, at least not one he could own. Anything he felt that was squirmy or nasty got channeled straight into the anger slot. A handy catch-all for all that inconvenient shit.

His hand slammed the table, making the plates rattle and jump.

Robin recoiled. His hand welcomed the burning sting of contact.

“The fact that guys like it is exactly the problem,” he said harshly. “Just what makes you think I’m telling you the truth about not having any STD’s? What the f*ck makes you think that?”

She bit her trembling lip, and swallowed. “Because I trust you.”

“Trust me? On what basis? Twenty-four hours of hot sex?”

She seemed to curl in on herself. “I thought it was more.”

“Your mistake.” He couldn’t stop the ugliness once it started churning out. Part of him was screaming, stop trashing it, stop hurting her, but he was powerless to stop. “Sex without latex is something you can offer a guy once he’s promised to be faithful for the rest of his life. And that’s only after the blood test results and the background check.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous—”

“I’m dead serious!” he bellowed. “It’s not something to offer to me!”

Her chin lifted. “Well, call me stupid, but it’s mine to offer,” she said quietly. “And I’m offering it to you. Nyah nyah. So there.”

“I do call you stupid,” he flung at her. “Is this the way you’re going to be with guys, once you get out into the real world? It’s a f*cking wasteland out there. A pile of steaming shit. You have to protect yourself. Starting right now. From me. Do you hear?”

She scooted back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—”

“Don’t trust me!” he yelled at her. “I could be lying to you. Feeding you a line. Any guy would, if you offered yourself up like you did to me. Oh, pretty please, pop my cherry. Oh, pretty please, let me suck your cock. Oh, pretty please, won’t you f*ck me with no condom—”

“Just. Shut. Up.” She leaped to her feet, sending the chair spinning back against the wall. “You *.”

“Do not treat me like your boyfriend. Or your fiancé.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Her voice was clipped. “And you shouldn’t criticize my sexual style, Jon. After all, you’re my only teacher. So far.”

His hands fisted. “What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Just being realistic. Would it make you feel better if I solemnly promise to use latex with my next lover? Or next several lovers, I should say. I’ll have to do my own experimenting, just as you said. And hunting down a decent boyfriend is a very inexact science.”

“You’re trying to make me jealous?” His voice vibrated with strain.

“Not at all, Jon. Why on earth should you care? If you’ll excuse me, this is my cue to get dressed and leave. Thanks for the professional job of deflowering me. Masterful, really. You set the tone for what promises to be a fabulous future sex life. Wish me luck.”

He was on his feet and blocking her before she’d finished speaking. “Do not f*ck with my head, Robin,” he hissed.

“You drove me to it,” she retorted icily. “Here I am, trying to be as nice to you as a woman can be to a man, and you rip my head off for my trouble. So I’ll change tactics. I’ll be cold. I can be taught. There’s hope for me yet. Now get the hell out of my way. I am out of here.”

“No.” He ducked in front of her in the doorway to the living room.

“Don’t you dare.” She shoved past him. “I want privacy to dress.”

“Tough,” the grunting primeval caveman inside him replied.

She made a derisive sound, and tossed the bathrobe off her slender shoulders. “Fine. Gawk if you must. I’m still leaving.”

That heart-stopping back view as she bent over the duffel to rummage for her underwear was a blatant provocation. He moved up behind her, making no sound. She sensed him and froze.

“You’re not leaving,” he said softly. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Of course I’m leaving,” she snapped. “You’re unbearable.”

He slid his arm around her waist, and tension rose, more volatile and dangerous than before.” Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare. You’ll lose the family jewels. Snip, snip.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”

“No, you’ll be dead. Don’t muscle me around, you lout. Let me go!” She struggled, but he automatically countered her every move.

Bad move. Very bad. Back off, pig dog. The voice of reason was screaming at him, but he’d been hijacked. In any case, what he had to say to her could only be said with his body. He carried her, clamped against his chest, to the sofabed, bunched a sleeping bag into a fluffy heap and bent her over it. Her thrashing body was strong, but he was stronger. He caught her flailing hands, trapped them. “Shhh.”