Bedding the Wrong Brother(23)

Drawing up her knees, she buried her face in them and covered her head with her arms. She struggled to block out all stimuli and simply think. Even so, she felt him stiffen next to her. His words, when they came, didn't sound humorous in the least. “The bastard told you that and you believed him? You still do? After last night?”

She jerked her face up to look at him. “Of course after last night,” she hissed, poking him in the chest with her finger. “You proved it.”

“Excuse me?” Grabbing hold of her finger, he leaned in toward her, nose to nose, until she could clearly see his fierce frown. Anger emanated from him in waves. “All we proved last night was you are capable of far more passion than you thought. I've got the claw marks and the ringing ears to prove it.”

Flushing, she jerked her finger away and buried her face in her knees again. Her next words came out muffled and garbled. “Also proofs incisor golden bat.”

“What?”

She lifted her head again and spoke past the hair that had tangled in her mouth. “All that proved is that you're good in bed,” she clarified. “We already knew that. I, on the other hand, am a flop. I just didn't accept it before.”

He shook his head and spat out, “Bullshit.” Despite the fury in his voice, his hand was gentle as he smoothed back the hair from her face. “Melina, what are you talking about? Last night was the best—”

“You didn't get off,” she yelled. “We agreed that you were going to teach me about pleasing a man, and instead you drove me so wild that I…that I—” She shook her head.

“Finish.” His voice had turned quiet, almost icy. He also moved away from her, just a foot or two, but it was enough to make her feel the rejection. Great, now he was angry. But why shouldn't he be? She'd barely touched him last night. Sure, he'd ordered her not to, but maybe that had been some kind of challenge. Some test to see if she was aggressive enough to give him what he really wanted?

“I-I was selfish. I completely forgot about what I should be doing for you, Max. But it was only because you were so…you were so much more—” So much more than she'd expected. Based on that kiss so long ago, she'd thought she'd be safe with Max. It had been nice, but it hadn't overwhelmed her. It hadn't affected her the way just thinking of Rhys did. It hadn't made her tremble, but she was trembling now. When her face was buried in her knees and she consciously remembered who he was, she could control the ripples of desire that were swirling inside her. But as soon as she lifted her head and saw him—as soon as she breathed him in—the drumbeats of a passion so momentous began to clamor in her ears, urging her to reach out to him.

“What was I, Melina?”

Pressing her lips together, she plucked at the bedspread, refusing to look at him.

“You came into my bed,” Rhys said. “Apparently, you arranged all this for one of your idiotic experiments. So you will look at me, damn you.” Gripping her chin, he turned her face toward him, not unkindly, but not gently either. “What was I? Who am I?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Who. Am. I?”

“You—” She squinted, but the picture didn't change. He was Max. Honey-colored hair, slightly shorter than she remembered from two days before, but he could have gotten a haircut. Strong nose and jaw. Broad shoulders and chest, enticingly bare. Automatically, her gaze dropped lower and she saw his bare limbs splayed out from underneath the stark white sheet. She couldn't see the light dusting of hair on them, but she'd felt it last night. When he'd lain on top of her, with her wrists manacled by his hands—

She sucked in a breath and held it. Along with a flash of her favorite fantasy, two memories from last night formed. The first, his seeming surprise when he'd come into the room and found her in his bed. She'd chalked it up to nerves, but had it been more? The second, he'd called her Ladybug. Only Rhys called her Ladybug. But Rhys wasn't here. He didn't even like her anymore. Plus, he wouldn't have known to come to her. Unless…

“Rhys?” she whispered. Already half-expecting his answer, she rose and pulled the sheet up with her. His expression flashed with confirmation.

“Melina,” he said warningly, grabbing for the sheet, but she moved quick and with desperation, winning the tug of war so she could back up toward the door. And do what? Run out naked into the hallway? Prove herself to be an even bigger idiot? She compensated by taking a side-step toward the open bathroom doorway.