Free Bedding The Wrong Brother (Dalton Brothers Novels) by Virna DePaul Page B

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 laid on top of her, with her hands manacled in his wrists—
    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. 
    He stood, unconcerned with his nudity.  Her gaze dropped to his penis, which seemed slightly smaller and softer than it had last night. 
    “Come here, ladybug,” he said quietly.
    She shook her head.  “You’re Max.  Tell me you’re Max.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest, standing proud and tall.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t do that.”
    With her one free hand, she covered her mouth to stifle her moan of horror.  She felt her knees about to buckle and put a steadying hand on the wall.  She’d needed to steady herself on the bed last night, she remembered.  She’d thought it was because she wasn’t wearing her glasses, but it had more likely been because of the alcohol.  The alcohol that had emboldened her to climb into the bed and masturbate while she fantasized about Rhys while actually thinking that she could go to bed with his brother.  All in the interest of science, of course. 
    And what she’d done instead was throw herself at Rhys.  Begged him to please her, she remembered with mortification.  What had she said?  Please me.  Suck me .
    “Melina—” he began again.
    She shook her head.  Now that she knew, it seemed so obvious.  His hair was shorter.  He spoke slower.  He touched her differently.  More hesitantly. 
    More and more hesitantly as time went on.
    Except for last night.
    A slicing pain tugged at her stomach and she automatically clutched at it.  His surprise last night had been just that.  He hadn’t been expecting her to throw herself at him.  He’d gone along, probably to spare her feelings.  It certainly wasn’t because he’d been overcome by desire; he hadn’t even tried to seek his own release.  Maybe he’d already known he couldn’t achieve that kind of satisfaction with her.  Maybe Max had warned him.
    Now a hollow feeling of betrayal burned along with her embarrassment and heartache.  “Whose room is this?”
    “Mine.”
    “Not Max’s?”
    “Max is on a different floor.”
    A different floor.  So had the front desk made a mistake?  Or had Max chickened out at the last minute and tricked Rhys into filling in for him? 
    That made the most sense. 
    Despite her brief suspicion that Max had told Rhys she was waiting for him, the evidence didn’t point to him purposefully deceiving her.  When she’d said his brother’s name, he’d sounded displeased—with her, with his brother, with the entire situation.
    “Why—what—what are you doing here?”
    “I flew in to give you your birthday present.  It’s right on the dresser.  Didn’t you see it?”  Holding out his hands as if she was rabid