Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [54]
I WASN’T COLD ANYMORE.
Sleeping in Simon’s bed, wrapped in his arms, making love long into the night and again first thing in the morning, well, I didn’t think I’d ever be cold again. In fact, it was amazing I hadn’t completely gone up in flames.
Remember when I said I had only ever experienced meat-and-potatoes sex? Well, holy crap, last night had put me in the gourmet connoisseur category. I honestly didn’t know the human body was capable of experiencing so much pleasure in that short a time frame. Nonstop, watch-out-my-head’s-gonna-blow-off pleasure.
I had more orgasms in one night than I’d had in my whole life.
Even that wasn’t the best part, though. The best part was that Simon hadn’t pulled away this morning. He had not rolled over in the light of day, slipped out of bed, withdrawn into himself and ignored me. No, he hadn’t actually been Mr. Cuddles, either. Still, he’d kissed me sweetly, asked if I was okay, then he’d offered to make me breakfast!
Shortly afterward, he’d gone back to work, with his office door closed as usual. I’d gone up into the attic again, as was becoming my habit, but at least three times, he’d come to the third floor and called up to check on me.
The man had a protective streak. The weird accident with the carriage last night seemed to have really brought it out and I honestly think he was afraid something bad was going to happen to me.
I still hadn’t entirely gotten over that near miss, but I wasn’t dwelling on it. And neither was he… He just wasn’t going to let too much time go by without making sure I was okay.
I kind of liked being so cherished. Protected. Not in a bossy way, like my brothers had tried to do all my life. But in a good way, by a handsome, incredibly sexy man who had, truly, saved my life. Wow, that was a sobering thought.
I really could have died, couldn’t I?
I didn’t let myself think about it. What mattered wasn’t what might have happened, it was what had happened.
As much as I wished I could just drag a few boxes of stuff down three flights of stairs and work with Simon in his office, I knew it wouldn’t work. He might agree—just to be nice to the woman he’d had sex with in just about every position known to man the previous night. I knew, however, he wouldn’t like the interruption.
Besides, I’d reached the point where I needed more than what I was finding in the attic. I really needed to go into town, to check out the land records office. The paperwork I’d found made me very curious about the deal between Josef Zangara and Robert Stubbs, and I wanted to find the actual record of it.
Unfortunately, however, I realized I had a problem. I’d used the broken-down-car excuse to stay here. Simon hadn’t asked why the car service hadn’t ever arrived, but I could practically guarantee he’d notice if my cheerful little PT Cruiser suddenly started right up.
But I had no other choice. So sending up a mental promise to go to confession when I got back to Chicago, I went to his office and knocked on the door. Sticking my head in, I asked, “Hey, I need to run down to town, do you need anything?”
At first I thought I was going to get away with it, that he wouldn’t even remember the car. He appeared deep in thought, focused on his computer, not even lifting his eyes when I entered the room. “No.” Then, as if suddenly remembering he had not a leg to stand on when it came to being standoffish with me, he looked up and gave me a sheepish look. “No, thank you.”
Blowing him a kiss, I immediately slid toward the door, hoping to make a clean getaway, then Simon abruptly stood. “How are you going down to town when you car’s not running?”
Busted. Man. It was one thing to plan to tell another little fib when I wasn’t face-to-face with my intense, sometimes dangerous-looking lover. It was another to actually do it.
I guess it had been easier faking the breakdown because I’d never actually told Simon a lie. I’d told him the car wouldn’t start. True, it wouldn’t. Because I