Pregnancy Of Passion. Lucy Monroe

go. She had to get used to his touch again. The prospect that she wouldn’t was not a circumstance he wanted to contemplate.

      “Where are we going?”

      “Does it matter?”

      “No.”

      “I did not think so.”

      Two hours later, they were back in the apartment, dinner having been nothing short of a disaster. She’d avoided looking at him, touching him and talking to him if she could.

      The strain of it was showing on both of them.

      She yawned.

      “You need to go to bed.”

      She nodded.

      He looked around the small apartment. The cozy and inviting undersized sofa didn’t look so cozy as a possible bed. It was several feet too short for his over-six-foot frame. The pull-down bed would have been a slight improvement, but he had no doubt she would refuse to share it with him.

      He looked at the floor with even less pleasure. “I suppose you’ll expect me to bed down on the carpet.”

      Her eyes grew wide and a flush suffused her face. “I don’t expect you to sleep here at all.”

      “I thought we settled this before we left.” It was a blatant untruth. He’d known she would balk at him spending the night.

      She stiffened in pure, independent female outrage. “You’re not sleeping in my apartment.”

      “I am until the auction is over.” His voice was as grim as his mood after dinner as the undesirable pariah. It was not an experience he was used to. Usually women fawned over him, even ex-girlfriends—but not this woman.

      The look of horror that came over her made no improvement on his deteriorating mood.

      “I’m not going to attack you,” he ground out. “I’m here to protect you.”

      “It’s impossible.”

      “Do you have a better solution? I’m not leaving you alone,” he added before she could open her mouth to answer.

      She gnawed at her lower lip in a gesture he remembered from before. It indicated she was in serious thought.

      The look of horror turned to one of disgust. “If you insist on being my bodyguard, you can spring for a suite with two bedrooms at a hotel or sleep in the hall. You pick.”

      He stared at her. It couldn’t be this easy. “A hotel.”

      “Fine. Give me a minute to pack.”

      Elisa threw clothes into a suitcase with little consideration for what she was packing. He’d looked shocked when she suggested the hotel, but she knew how intractable he could be. He would spend the night with her no matter what she wanted. Her apartment was out of the question. Just the thought of sharing such small living space with him made her cringe. She needed a door to shut between them, a room to call her own, a bed that would hold no memories.

      Not that he’d ever shared her bed in this new apartment, but somehow, if he stayed, she knew it would feel tainted by his presence. She would have to move again.

      She refused to consider why he had such a strong impact on her emotions still, or why hate sometimes felt like the other side of a bruised and bleeding love.