Free Wanton Heat (A Feel the Heat Novel) (Entangled Brazen) by Nicola Marsh Page A

rough.
    Merda . Worse than shit. She must think he was some kind of animal.
    He eased out of her and waited until her legs hit the floor before releasing her. He couldn’t even look her in the eye.
    “I’ll be back in a second,” he said, heading to the bathroom to take care of business. All the while chastising himself for being a heartless Neanderthal.
    He took his time. Splashed water on his face. Tried to ignore the devastating guilt in his eyes as he stared in the mirror.
    How on earth could he face this woman for business now?
    That mental pep talk on the boat? The one where he knew it’d be wrong to have sex with her when he had no intention of even considering her proposal? When he’d accused her of being exactly like the rest of the suck-ups in his life? Obliterated the moment he kissed her.
    Yeah, he was a heartless bastard. He should apologize, then keep his distance until they were done on the island and could go their separate ways.
    So why was he eager to find her again? And eager for more. So much more.
    When he returned to the lounge, she was nowhere to be found, and for an insane moment he wondered if she’d chosen to brave the storm rather than face him. Then he heard a clang in the kitchen and he headed that way, surprised to find her rummaging in the pantry. She was bent over, checking out the bottom shelves, her sexy ass in the air. Covered by that little yellow sundress only, because he’d shredded her panties.
    His cock hardened immediately. What he wouldn’t give to cross the kitchen in three strides, flip that skirt up, and take her from behind.
    “I want pancakes, and I can’t find the flour,” she said, shoving canisters aside. “Are you going to help or stand there staring at my ass all day?”
    The fact that she’d made a joke encouraged him. So she wasn’t mad at his he-man act. But he still had no idea how to respond. Should he apologize? Laugh it off? Grovel?
    “Did I mention my blood sugar goes haywire when I’m hungry, and I go a little nuts?” She finally straightened and whirled to face him, her gaze zeroing in on the obvious bulge in his shorts. “While I appreciate the sentiment and could go for round two, sex makes me ravenous, and I need to eat now.”
    Startled by her brazenness, he stepped into the kitchen and headed for the stove, where he busied himself finding the right size pan. “There’s premade pancake mix in a stone canister on the top shelf. Long-life milk on the bottom shelf.”
    “Thanks.”
    When she turned away and wasn’t watching him with wide-eyed wariness, he said, “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have—”
    “You’re apologizing for the sex?” She whirled on him, radiating indignation. “Don’t do that, okay? It was phenomenal.” Her shoulders slumped. “And wrong on so many levels I can’t begin to articulate. But it’s done. We both enjoyed it. At least, I did, and I’m assuming you did, too?”
    He heard her hint of vulnerability, and it made him want to sweep her into his arms and hold her. He settled for banging the pan on the stove instead. “It has been a long time for me, so yes, the sex was amazing.”
    She puffed up like an outraged bullfrog. “So anyone would’ve done? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “No, of course not.” Shit, he was making a mess of this. “You were…incredible,” he finished lamely, not wanting to say she was the best sex he’d ever had. For the simple fact of how responsive and uninhibited she’d been.
    She hadn’t wanted the lights out or thousand-thread-count sheets. She hadn’t wanted thirty minutes of dictated foreplay or nonstop compliments. She’d matched him, clawing and writhing and just being in the moment.
    It had been fucking unbelievable.
    Wildly erotic and he’d be hard for a week just remembering every detail: the sounds she made, the way she bit him, how she wanted him all the way.
    “I can live with incredible,” she said, a small, smug smile curving her