The Look of Love (The Sullivans #1)(13)

She wouldn’t beat up on herself for masturbating in the delicious tub. She wouldn’t even call herself out for the way his name landed on her lips as she came. And there really was no point in being angry with him for walking in on her “private time,” not when the only reason he'd come looking for her was because he’d clearly been worried about her. He hadn’t been hoping to catch her with her hand between her legs.

But what had come after—the fact that she hadn’t flat-out insisted he leave the bathroom, the way they’d teased each other, the fact that she’d actually called him Hotstuff to his face—she could hardly believe any of it had happened.

And yet, despite the way her stomach clenched as she tried to force those memories away, the small spot of warmth that had settled in behind her breastbone before she fell asleep remained.

All because Chase hadn’t come at her. He hadn’t frightened her. Or tried to dominate her in any way.

Some women, she knew, liked that sort of thing. They found it exciting to have their power taken away. Once upon a time, she’d been tantalized by fantasies of being held down. Of being bound. Of being helpless in her passion, of the idea of being able to let go completely with a man who loved her.

She couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way now. No, she’d never let anyone take her power away ever again. And Chloe couldn’t see one possible reason that she might be tempted to let anyone control any part of her life like that. Not a single one.

She closed her eyes, knowing she was being a coward lying here in this soft bed. She should be on the phone, calling the police, filing a report. She should have done it last night, but she’d been so spooked by the way her ex had come after her that she hadn’t been thinking about anything but getting away. Far, far away from him.

But knowing what she should do and feeling strong enough to do it were quite clearly two completely different things.

Finally giving up on getting any more sleep, with her mind reeling in a dozen different directions, she pushed off the covers and slid out of bed.

“You were good last night,” she told it like a fond lover before she headed for the bathroom.

She stood beneath the deliciously warm shower spray, feeling safe and warm, at least for a little while. She wasn’t going to hide here forever, of course. But for the rest of the day, if she could manage it without getting in anyone’s way, she’d hang out in the vineyards. Maybe even taste a little wine. Pretend her life was normal for a while.

Normal. That sounded really nice.

Forcing back the voice inside her head that told her avoiding the inevitable would only make it harder to take care of the ugliness later, she worked to convince herself that she deserved a tiny bit of normal. Didn’t she?

After drying off and putting on her jeans and T-shirt, she ventured out into the suite.

Okay, so maybe she’d taken longer than normal drying her long straight hair. It wasn’t that she cared about looking good for Chase. It wasn’t that she was nervous about seeing him again.

Oh, who was she kidding? No one, that’s who.

The bruise on her face wasn’t going to terrify small children or anything, but it wasn’t particularly attractive, either. Add that to her well-worn jeans and T-shirt and she wasn’t anywhere near looking her best.

She took a deep breath and threw her shoulders back before rounding the corner of the hallway to where it opened up to the kitchen.

It was empty.

Disappointment reared up in her before she could shove it down. Or pretend it hadn’t been there at all.

There was a bowl of freshly cut fruit on the kitchen island, along with an array of pastries that had her empty stomach growling. She had already picked up a chocolate croissant—her favorite!—and bitten into it by the time she noticed the note tucked beside the pretty red and yellow fruit bowl.

Chloe,

Good morning. I hope you slept well. Sorry I couldn’t stay to keep you company for breakfast. Please come join us out in the vineyards when you’re done eating.

See you soon,

HOTSTUFF

P.S. Almost forgot. There’s fresh squeezed o.j. in the fridge. Gotta make sure you get your vitamin C.

Surprised laughter rang out in the empty kitchen.

Chloe couldn’t believe he’d signed his note with the nickname she’d given him. In her experience, men didn’t have funny bones. Especially not when the joke was at their expense.

Looking in the fridge, she found the juice and poured herself a tall glass. Settling on one of the bar stools, she picked up the note and read it again, a smile still playing on her face.

Us meant Chase and his brother, right? She fought back a prickle of unease that she might have to meet more people than that. Frankly, she didn’t even want to meet his brother. But since she’d availed herself of his hospitality last night—right now, too—she wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t at least thank him for letting her crash in his guest house for a night. As soon as she was settled again, she’d get to work on a new quilt as a proper thank-you gift.

The croissant was down to little crumbles on the granite counter top and she was picking each one up with a wet fingertip before she admitted to herself that she was stalling again, hiding out in the guest house so she wouldn’t have to face Chase.

It was a beautiful day outside. She should go and enjoy it while she was here.