The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(24)

He’d just turned the light off when there was a knock.

“Yeah?” he said, sitting up.

The door opened a crack.

“Can I come in for a sec?” Mad’s voice was low.

He yanked the covers up to his chest, very aware of how naked he was. “Ah…sure.”

When she closed the door behind her, he turned the light back on. She was in a black satin bathrobe, her hair dry as if she’d washed it and blown it out. She smelled of the fancy French soap he’d used on himself, as if the whole house was stocked with the stuff. The scent was perfect for her.

As Mad paced around, it seemed like she was working up the nerve to say something, and while silence stretched out, all he could do was watch. And want.

She halted at the foot of the bed. “Are you honestly attracted to me?”

Totally. Completely.

“Ah…yeah. I am.” His eyes lingered on her pale neck and the V where the two halves of the robe came together. “But don’t worry, I’m not an animal or anything. I know how to keep my hands to myself.”

“Why?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Why are you attracted to me?”

Spike frowned. The woman didn’t want him, but was all set to hear the eight thousand things he liked about her? Like she needed the ego boost?

That she was so shallow was a surprise.

“Whatever, Mad. Go back to your room, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

She seemed to pale, but then she nodded and took off. Almost as if she were ashamed.

Man, what the hell was that all about?

Spike turned off the light and eased back against the pillows. A split second later, he threw the covers off himself and dragged on a pair of nylon sweats.

*

Mad rushed down the hall, feeling like an idiot. Whatever attraction Spike had had toward her down at the pool hadn’t lasted long. He’d seemed disgusted with her just now.

Yeah, well, maybe it was because she was so damn naive. Someone like him, who’d no doubt had…oh, God, dozens of lovers, wouldn’t be interested in a repressed, sexually insecure woman like her.

And though she wished things were different, she couldn’t pretend confidence in the sexual arena. After having been compared unfavorably to the female standard for decades by her father and half brother, after having had men she really liked forget she even existed after they met Amelia, after having lived on boats with guys for four years just like she was one of them, the idea a man wanted her was just…a total flipping surprise.

Then there was the fact that it was Spike.

But she couldn’t have handled the situation down at the pool worse, could she? When he’d gotten out of the water, she hadn’t been prepared for the arousal she’d seen. It had been so unexpected she’d taken a step back out of shock. Which was, of course, not the best reaction if you were actually interested in the guy.

“Mad, wait up!” came from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder. Spike was naked to the waist and coming after her at a jog.

As she got to her bedroom, she rushed to open the door and then slipped inside, not wanting to deal. Except before she could shut him out, Spike crammed his body in the way.

His eyes bored into hers in the tense silence. She wanted to move. Couldn’t make herself turn away.

He looked over her hair, her throat, lower. “I didn’t come to Greenwich to get in bed with you.”

Like she needed to hear that? “Of course you didn’t—”

“But I can’t keep myself from wanting you.”

Mad’s lungs stopped working. Holy…did he just say that?

Yes, you idiot, she thought.

“Do you still want to know why I’m attracted to you?” he whispered.

Feeling like she were sky diving, she said, “Yes.”

“Then let me in.”

Slowly, she opened the door wide. He was the one who shut it.

He stared at her for the longest time. And then he said, quiet as a breath, “How could I not want you? You’re beautiful.”

He reached out and took some of her hair into his wide palm, bringing it to his nose. Then he dropped the dark waves and touched the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her temple.

She jumped as his other hand went to her shoulder.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

As he held her face, he caressed her body, that light touch moving up and down her arms, her waist, her hip, across her back…and then around to the front. He was telling her what he liked without words and it was…everything about her.

His hand stopped over her heart and his head bent down to her ear.

“Mad?” His voice was a deep rumble.

She couldn’t breathe. She absolutely couldn’t breathe. “Yes?”

“Will you let me kiss you?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Good.” He pulled back and cupped her face. “Because every time I see your mouth, that’s all I can think of doing.”

He covered her lips smoothly, slanting his head, pressing in, arms sliding around her. His mouth moved in a slow, patient way, easing her, enticing her. He was a master at this, she realized. A master at the holding and the taking, his big hard body exactly the kind of anchor she needed to keep standing.