Bedding the Wrong Brother(27)

“I feel it only fair to warn you that if you try to hide in the bathroom again, I'll just have to break the door down.”

Surprise came first, then she couldn't help it. She laughed. She laughed long and hard. When she finally managed to control herself and look at him, he was frowning fiercely.

“Glad to know the idea of me exerting enough strength to break down a door amuses you.”

It was the idea of him exerting such effort for her that had made her laugh, but she didn't tell him that. Shaking her head, she bit her lip. “I'm sorry. It's not that. I just…I just laugh when I'm nervous.” Plus, Rhys had just told Max what he normally thought of her. With her, men expected flannel pajamas, pinned-back hair, butt-ugly glasses.

Weren't those the same words Max had used to describe her choice in eye decor?

Even as she appreciated his discretion, she wondered if it was because he was too embarrassed to admit that he'd actually done anything with her. The thought pierced a tender spot inside her, when she'd thought she'd guarded those softer places long ago.

“So I make you nervous? Why is that, do you think?”

Any trace of humor slipped, and she averted her gaze. So he knew he made her nervous. Big deal. Like he hadn't already figured that out a long time ago with the way she always flushed and stuttered around him. “Can you give me my overnight bag? I thought I left it—”

“I gave it to a passing bellboy while you were in the bathroom.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You did not.”

He shrugged. “No, I didn't. But I did hide it. I don't want you getting dressed and rushing out of here before we talk.”

“But that's…that's—” she sputtered.

“Childish? Hey, desperate times and all that. But if you want to look around, then by all means…” He waved his hand in invitation.

For a moment, she just stared at him. What was motivating him to be so difficult about this? He had to know she was embarrassed about the mix-up, yet he was forcing her to confront him. Why wouldn't he just let it go? Why was he getting so much pleasure from her humiliation?

The answer came to her so suddenly that she felt foolish for not thinking of it sooner. This was obviously about the competitive male ego. He was probably offended that she'd asked Max for the favor and not him. Well, he didn't need any more ego stroking from her. Her performance last night should have already told him that she was putty in his hands.

She glanced around but didn't see her bag anywhere. Her purse, however, was by the television. Next to his cologne and that box of condoms. She snatched her purse, rifled through it, and found her spare glasses. With a mutinous thrust of her chin, she put them on. Her vision immediately focused, making her feel slightly calmer. “Honestly, Rhys,” she said, trying to sound bemused. “I don't know why you won't just give me my bag. All I want is my clothes.”

“Because seeing you all naked and pink and wearing nothing but those glasses would give me enormous pleasure.” He stepped closer to her and tugged playfully at the sheet that she clutched with whitened knuckles. “Lots of men dream of being taken by the prim librarian who's really a wildcat in bed. That's what this is all about, right? Learning how to please a man? I think we established last night that I qualify as a member of the male species. At least by touch. Would you like to see the proof itself?” His hands hovered over the button fly of his jeans.

“You're not funny.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Funny is the last thing I'm trying to be.”

She pondered what he'd said. “Do men really fantasize about librarians? I would have thought the average male liked something more overt. That's why porn flicks and skin magazines are so popular, isn't it?”

Now it was his turn to erupt in laughter. “Skin magazines?”

“What? That's what they're called, aren't they?”

“Sure, by some people. I just never thought to hear that term coming from your pretty lips.”

The casual compliment made her blush, but she immediately batted the pleasure it caused away. “Oh, you view me as asexual?”

In an instant, his expression grew serious. Heated. “I've never thought of you as asexual. Not by a long shot and certainly not after last night. Honey, you've got more passion in you than most men could handle.”

“Most, but not you, right?”